Is  I 


Mary   J.    L.    Mc  Donald 


The  Harvester 


Wi 

A  Girl  ( 

the  Bil 
The  iVfusic  of  the  Wild 
I  The  Harvester 


Soon  she  was  close  enough  to  prove  that  she  was 
young  and  very  lovely" 


THE  HARVESTER 


By 
GENE  STRATTON-PORTER 


Illustrations  try 
W-L -JACOBS 


Garden  City,     New  York 

DouHedqy,  Page  &  Company 

1911 


ALL  RIGHTS   RESERVED,  INCLUDING   THAT   OF    TRANSLATION 
ORE.TGN  LANGUAGES.  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVLAN 


COPYRIGHT,   IQII,  BY  DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 


I'Hl     (  OUNTRY   LIKK    PRESS,   GARDEN    CITY,  >J.   Y. 


\<\W 
/*  hi 


J 


f   OF   THE  LIFE   0 

:d  in  the  hope  thai 

i/ITC    TEMi' 
NTA.L  EOU« 


HKNK 


980490 


CONTENTS 


I. 

Belshazzar's  Decision     .... 

3 

II. 

The  Effect  of  a  Dream 

19 

III. 

Harvesting  the  Forest  . 

35 

IV. 

A  Commission  for  the  South  Wind 

50 

V. 

When  the  Harvester  Made  Good  . 

68 

VI. 

To  Labour  and  to  Wait 

«7 

VII. 

The  Quest  of  the  Dream  Girl 

104 

VIII. 

Belshazzar's  Record  Point 

125 

IX. 

The  Harvester  Goes  Courting 

X. 

The  Chime  of  the  Blue  Bells 

r6> 

XI. 

Demonstrated  Courtship 

m 

XII. 

"The  Way  of  a  Man  with  a  MakT 

-  219 

XIII. 

When  the  Dream  Came  True 

245 

XIV. 

Snowy  Wings 

293 

XV. 

The  Harvester  Interprets  Life 

•307- 

XVI. 

Granny  -Md'retend's  Visit 

•  W 

XVII. 

Love  Invades  Science 

387 

CVIII. 

The  Better  Man  . 

41s 

XIX. 

A  Vertical  Spine  . 

453 

XX. 

The  Man  in  the  Background 

495 

XXI. 

The  Coming  of  the  Bluebird 

531 

CHARACTERS 

David  Langston,  A  Harvester  of  the  Woods. 

Ruth  Jameson,  A  Girl  of  the  City. 

Granny  Moreland,   An  Interested  Neighbour. 

Dr.  Carey,  Chief  Surgeon  of   the  Onabasha    Hospital 

Mrs.  Carey,  Wife  of  the  Doctor. 

Dr.  Harmon,  Who  Concludes  to  Leave   the   City. 

Molly  Barnet,  A  Hospital  Nurse  with  a  Heart. 

Henry  Jameson,  A  Trader  Without  a  Heart. 

Alexander  Herron,  Who  Made  a  Concession. 

Mrs.  Herron,  A  Gentle  Wroman. 

The  Kennedys,  Philadelphia  Lawyers, 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Soon  she  was  close  enough  to  prove  that  she 
was  young  and  von-  love!)  Frontispiece 


TACIV-  PAG1 


"     <  T  T 

Heaven   knows    I'm  lonely   enough    to   kiss    a 

dog/  she  said/' 

1 34 

"  'Oh,  I  do  hope  they  ain't  so  run  to  white  in 
Heaven  as  some  folks  seem  to  think!'  "  176 

'You're  a  braw  laddie/  she  said.     'Now  I  gee 

why  Ruthie  would  come/  " 

544 


X 


The  Harvester 


CHAPTER  I 

Belshaz?ar's  Decision 

BEL,  COME  here!" 
The  Harvester  sat  in  the  hollow  worn  in  the 
hewed  log  stoop  by  the  feet  of  his  father  and 
mother  and  his  own  sturdier  tread,  and  rested  his  head 
against  the  casing  of  the  cabin  door  when  he  gave  the 
command.  The  tip  of  the  dog's  nose  touched  the  gravel 
between  his  paws  as  he  crouched  flat  on  earth,  with 
beautiful  eyes  steadily  watching  the  master,  but  he  did 
not  move  a  muscle. 

"Bel,  come  here!" 

Twinkles  flashed  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  when  he  re- 
peated the  order,  while  his  voice  grew  more  imperative  as 
he  stretched  a  lean,  wiry  hand  toward  the  dog.  The 
animal's  eyes  gleamed  and  his  sensitive  nose  quivered,  yet 
he  lay  quietly. 

"Belshazzar,  kommen  sie  hier!" 

The  body  of  the  dog  arose  on  straightened  legs  and  his 
muzzle  dropped  in  the  outstretched  palm.  A  wind 
slightly  perfumed  with  the  odour  of  melting  snow  and 


4  THE  HARVESTER 

unsheathing  buds  swept  the  lake  beside  them,  and  lifted 
a  waving  tangle  of  light  hair  on  the  brow  of  the  man,  while 
a  level  ray  of  the  setting  sun  flashed  across  the  water  and 
illumined  the  graven,  sensitive  face,  now  alive  with  keen 
interest  in  the  game  being  played. 

"Bel,  clost  remember  the  day?"  inquired  the  Har- 
vester. 

The  eager  attitude  and  anxious  eyes  of  the  dog  betrayed 
thai  he  did  not,  but  was  waiting  with  every  sense  alert 
for  a  familiar  word  that  would  tell  him  what  was 
expected. 

"Surely  you  heard  the  killdeers  crying  in  the  night," 
prompted  the  man.  "I  called  your  attention  when,  the 
ecstasy  of  the  first  bluebird  waked  the  dawn.  All  day 
you  have  seen  the  gold-yellow  and  blood-red  osiers,  the 
sap-wet  maples  and  spring  tracing  announcements  of  her 
arrival  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  levee." 

The  dog  found  no  clew,  but  he  recognized  tones  he 
loved  in  the  suave,  easy  voice,  and  his  tail  beat  his  sides 
in  vigorous  approval.     The  man  nodded  gravely. 

"Ah,  so!  Then  you  realize  this  day  to  be  the  most 
important  of  all  the  coming  year  to  me;  this  hour  a  solemn 
one  that  influences  my  whole  after  life.  It  is  time  for 
your  annual  decision  on  my  fate  for  a  twelve-month. 
Are  you  sure  you  are  fully  alive  to  the  gravity  of  the  sit- 
uation, Bel?" 

The  dog  felt  himself  safe  in  answering  a  rising  inflection 
ending  in  his  name  uttered  in  that  tone,  and  wagged 
eager  assent. 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  5 

"Well  then,"  said  the  man,  "which  shall  it  be?  Do  I 
leave  home  for  the  noise  and  grime  of  the  city,  open  an 
office  and  enter  the  money-making  scramble?" 

Every  word  was  strange  to  the  dog,  almost  breath- 
lessly waiting  for  a  familiar  syllable.  The  man  gazed 
steadily  into  the  animal's  eyes.  After  a  long  pause  he 
continued: 

"Or  do  I  remain  at  home  to  harvest  the  golden  seal, 
mullein,  and  ginseng,  not  to  mention  an  occasional  hour 
with  the  black  bass  or  tramps  for  partridge  and  cotton- 
tails?" 

The  dog  recognized  each  word  of  that.  Before  the 
voice  ceased,  his  sleek  sides  were  quivering,  his  nostrils 
twitching,  his  tail  lashing,  and  at  the  pause  he  leaped  up 
and  thrust  his  nose  against  the  face  of  the  man.  The 
Harvester  leaned  back  laughing  in  deep,  full-chested 
tones;  then  he  patted  the  dog's  head  with  one  hand  and 
renewed  his  grip  with  the  other. 

"Good  old  Bel!"  he  cried  exultantly.     "Six  years  you 

have  decided  for  me,  and  right every  time !    We  are  of 

the  woods,  Bel,  born  and  reared  here  as  our  fathers  before 
us.  What  would  we  of  the  camp  fire,  the  long  trail,  the 
earthy  search,  we  harvesters  of  herbs  the  famous  chemists 
require,  what  would  we  do  in  a  city?  And  when  the  sap 
is  rising,  the  bass  splashing,  and  the  wild  geese  honking 
in  the  night!     We  never  could  endure  it,  Bel. 

"When  we  delivered  that  hemlock  at  the  hospital 
to-day,  did  you  hear  that  young  doctor  talking  about  his 
Mid'?    Well  up  there  is  ours,  old  fellow!  Just  sky  and  clouds 


6  THE  HARVESTER 

overhead  for  us,  forest  wind  in  our  faces,  wild  perfume  in 
our  nostrils,  muck  on  our  feet,  that's  the  life  for  us.  Our 
blood  was  tainted  to  begin  with,  and  we've  lived  here  so 
long  it  is  now  a  passion  in  our  hearts.  If  ever  you  sen- 
tence us  to  life  in  the  city,  you'll  finish  both  of  us,  that's 
what  you'll  do!  But  you  won't,  will  you?  You  realize 
what  God  made  us  for  and  what  He  made  for  us,  don't 
you,  Bel?" 

As  he  lovingly  patted  the  dog's  head  the  man  talked  and 
the  animal  trembled  with  delight.  Then  the  voice  of  the 
Harvester  changed  and  dropped  to  tones  of  gravest 
import. 

"Now  how  about  that  other  matter,  Bel?  You  always 
decide  that  too.  The  time  has  come  agfain.  Steady  now! 
This  is  far  more  important  than  the  other.  Just  to  be 
wiped  out,  Bel,  pouf!  That  isn't  anything  and  it  con- 
cerns no  one  save  ourselves.  But  to  bring  misery  into 
our  lives  and  live  with  it  daily,  that  would  be  a 
condition  to  rend  the  soul.  So  careful,  Bel!  Cautious 
now!" 

The  voice  of  the  man  dropped  to  a  whisper  as  he  asked 
the  question. 

"What  about  the  girl  business?" 

Trembling  with  eagerness  to  do  the  thing  that  would 
bring  more  caressing,  bewildered  by  unfamiliar  words 
and  tones,  the  dog  hesitated. 

"Do  I  go  on  as  I  have  ever  since  mother  left  me, 
rustling  for  grub,  living  in  untrammelled  freedom?  Do 
I  go  on  as  before,  Bel?" 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  7 

The  Harvester  paused  and  waited  the  answer,  with 
anxiety  in  his  eyes  as  he  searched  the  beast  face.  He 
had  talked  to  that  dog,  as  most  men  commune  with  their 
souls,  for  so  long  and  played  the  game  in  such  intense 
earnest  that  he  felt  the  results  final  with  him.  The 
animal  was  immovable  now,  lost  again,  his  anxious  eyes 
watching  the  face  of  the  master,  his  eager  ears  waiting 
for  words  he  recognized.  After  a  long  time  the  man  con- 
tinued slowly  and  hesitantly,  as  if  fearing  the  outcome. 
He  did  not  realize  that  there  was  sufficient  anxiety  in  his 
voice  to  change  its  tones. 

"Or  do  I  go  courting  this  year?  Do  I  rig  up  in  uncom- 
fortable store-clothes,  and  parade  before  the  country  and 
city  girls  and  try  to  persuade  the  one  I  can  get,  prob- 
ably   not  the  one  I  would  want to  marry  me,  and 

come  here  and  spoil  all  our  good  times?  Do  we  want 
a  woman  around  scolding  if  we  are  away  from  home, 
whining  because  she  is  lonesome,  fretting  for  luxuries 
we  cannot  afford  to  give  her?  Are  you  going  to  let  us  in 
for  a  scrape  like  that,  Bel?" 

The  bewildered  dog  could  bear  the  unusual  scene  no 
longer.  Taking  the  rising  inflection,  that  sounded  more 
familiar,  for  a  cue,  and  his  name  for  a  certainty,  he 
sprang  forward,  his  tail  waving  as  his  nose  touched  the 
face  of  the  Harvester.  Then  he  shot  across  the  drive- 
way and  lay  in  the  spice  thicket,  half  the  ribs  of  one 
side  aching,  as  he  howled  from  the  lowest  depths  of 
dog  misery. 

"You  ungrateful  cur!"     cried  the  Harvester.     "What 


8  THE  HARVESTER 

has  come  over  you?  Six  years  I  have  trusted  you,  and 
the  answer  has  been  right,  every  time  I  Confound  your 
picture!  Sentence  me  to  tackle  the  girl  proposition!  I 
see  myself!  Do  you  know  what  it  would  mean?  For 
the  first  thing  you'd  be  chained,  while  I  pranced  over  the 
country  like  a  half-broken  colt,  trying  to  attract  some 
girl.  I'd  have  to  waste  time  I  need  for  my  work  and 
spend  money  that  draws  good  interest  while  we  sleep,  to 
tempt  her  with  presents.  I'd  have  to  rebuild  the  cabin 
and  there's  not  a  chance  in  ten  she  would  not  fret  the  life 
out  of  me  whining  to  go  to  the  city  to  live,  arrange  for  her 
here  the  best  I  could.  Of  all  the  fool,  unreliable  dogs  that 
ever  trod  a  man's  tracks,  you  are  the  limit!  And  you 
never  before  failed  me!  You  blame,  degenerate  pup, 
you!" 

The  Harvester  paused  for  breath  and  the  dog  subsided 
to  a  pitiful  whimper.  He  was  eager  to  return  to  the 
man  who  had  struck  him  the  first  blow  his  pampered 
body  ever  had  received;  but  he  could  not  understand  a 
kick  and  harsh  words  for  him,  so  he  lay  quivering  with 
anxiety  and  fear. 

"You  howling,  whimpering  idiot!"  exclaimed  the  Har- 
vester. "Choose  a  day  like  this  to  spoil!  Air  to  intox- 
icate a  mummy!  Roots  swelling!  Buds  bursting!  Har- 
vest close  and  you'd  call  me  off  and  put  me  at  work 
like  that,  would  you?  If  I  ever  had  supposed  you'd 
lost  all  your  senses,  I  never  would  have  asked  you. 
Six  years  you  have  decided  my  fate,  when  the  first 
bluebird  came,   and  you've  been  true  blue  every  time. 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  9 

If  I  ever   trust  you   again!     But   the   mischief   is   done 


now. 


"Have  you  forgotten  that  your  name  means  'to  pro- 
tect?' Don't  you  remember  it  is  because  of  that,  it  is 
your  name?  Protect!  I'd  have  trusted  you  with  my 
life,  Bell!  You  gave  it  to  me  the  time  you  pointed  that 
rattler  within  six  inches  of  my  fingers  in  the  blood-root 
bed.  You  saw  the  falling  limb  in  time  to  warn  me.  You 
always  know  where  the  quicksands  lie.  But  you  are 
protecting  me  now,  like  sin,  ain't  you?  Bring  a  girl 
here  to  spoil  both  our  lives!  Not  if  I  know  myself! 
Protect!" 

The  man  arose  and  going  inside  the  cabin  closed  the 
door.  After  that  the  dog  lay  in  abject  misery  so  deep 
that  two  big  tears  squeezed  from  his  eyes  and  rolled  down 
his  face.  To  be  shut  out  was  worse  than  the  blow.  He 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  arise  from  the  wet  leaves 
covering  the  cold  earth,  but  closing  his  eyes  went  to  sleep. 

The  man  leaned  against  the  door  and  ran  his  fingers 
through  his  hair  as  he  anathematized  the  dog.  Slowly  his 
eyes  travelled  around  the  room.  He  saw  his  tumbled  bed 
by  the  open  window  facing  the  lake,  the  small  table  with 
his  writing  material,  the  crude  rack  on  the  wall  loaded 
with  medical  works,  botanies,  drug  encyclopaedias,  the 
books  of  the  few  authors  who  interested  him,  and  the  bare, 
muck-tracked  floor.  He  went  to  the  kitchen,  where  he 
built  a  fire  in  the  cook  stove,  and  to  the  smoke-house,  from 
which  he  returned  with  a  slice  of  ham  and  some  eggs.  He 
set  some  potatoes  boiling  and  took  bread,  butter  and  milk 


io  THE  HARVESTER 

from  the  pantry.  Then  he  laid  a  small  note-book  on  the 
table  before  him  and  studied  the  transactions  of  the 
day. 

io  lbs.  wild  cherry  bark  6  cents  $  .60 

5    "     wahoo  root  bark  25      "  1.25 

20    "     witch  hazel  bark  5      "  1.00 

5    "     blue  flag  root  12      "  .60 

10    "     snake  root  18      "  1.80 

IO    "     blood  root  12      "  1.20 

15    "     hoarhound  10      "  1.50 

#7-95 

"Not  so  bad,"  he  muttered,  bending  over  the  figures. 
"I  wonder  if  any  of  my  neighbours  who  harvest  the 
fields  average  as  well  at  this  season.  I'll  wager  they  don't. 
That's  pretty  fair!  Some  days  I  don't  make  it,  and  then 
when  a  consignment  of  seeds  go  or  ginseng  is  wanted  the 
cash  comes  in  right  properly.  I  could  waste  half  of  it  on 
a  girl  and  yet  save  money.  But  where  is  the  woman  who 
would  be  content  with  half?  She'd  want  all  and  fret 
because  there  wasn't  more.     Blame  that  dog!" 

He  put  the  book  in  his  pocket,  prepared  and  ate  his 
supper,  heaped  a  plate  generously,  placed  it  on  the  floor 
beneath  the  table,  and  set  away  the  food  that  remained. 

"Not  that  you  deserve  it,"  he  said  to  space.  "You  get 
this  in  honour  of  your  distinguished  name  and  the  faith- 
fulness with  which  you  formerly  have  lived  up  to  its  im- 
port. If  you  hadn't  been  a  dog  with  more  sense  than  some 
men,  I  wouldn't  take  your  going  back  on  me  now  so 
hard.  One  would  think  an  animal  of  your  intelligence 
might  realize  that  you  would  get  as  much  of  a  dose  as  I. 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  n 

Would  she  permit  you  to  eat  from  a  plate  on  the  kitchen 
floor?  Not  on  your  life,  Belshazzar!  Frozen  scraps 
around  the  door  for  you!  Would  she  allow  you  to  sleep 
across  the  foot  of  the  bed  ?  Ho,  ho,  ho !  Would  she  have 
you  tracking  on  her  floor?  It  would  be  the  barn,  and 
growling  you  didn't  do  at  that.  If  I'd  serve  you  right,  I'd 
give  you  a  dose  and  allow  you  to  see  how  you  like  it.  But 
it's  cutting  of!  my  nose  to  spite  my  face,  as  the  old  adage 
goes,  for  whatever  she  did  to  a  dog,  she'd  probably  do 
worse  to  a  man.     I  think  not!" 

He  entered  the  front  room  and  stood  before  a  long  shelf 
on  which  were  arranged  an  array  of  partially  completed 
candlesticks  carved  from  wood.  There  were  black  and 
white  walnut,  red,  white,  and  golden  oak,  cherry  and 
curly  maple,  all  in  original  designs.  Some  of  them  were 
oddities,  others  were  failures,  but  most  of  them  were  un- 
usually successful.  He  selected  one  of  black  walnut, 
carved  until  the  outline  of  his  pattern  was  barely  dis- 
tinguishable. He  was  imitating  the  trunk  of  a  tree  with 
the  bark  on,  the  spreading,  fern-covered  roots  widening 
for  the  base,  from  which  a  vine  sprang.  Near  the  top  was 
the  crude  outline  of  a  big  night  moth  climbing  toward 
the  light.  He  stood  turning  this  stick  with  loving  hands 
and  holding  it  from  him  for  inspection. 

"I  am  going  to  master  you!"  he  exulted.  "Your 
lines  are  right.  The  design  balances  and  it's  graceful.  If 
I  have  any  trouble  it  will  be  with  the  moth,  and  I  think 
I  can  manage.  I've  got  to  decide  whether  to  use  cecropia 
or  polyphemus  before  long.     Really,  on  a  walnut,  and  in 


12  THE  HARVESTER 

the  woods,  it  should  be  a  lima,  according  to  the  eternal 

fitness  of  things but  I'm  afraid  of  the  trailers.     They 

turn  over  and  half  curl  and  I  believe  I  had  better  not 
tackle  them  for  a  start.  I'll  use  the  easiest  to  begin  on, 
and  if  I  succeed  I'll  duplicate  the  pattern  and  try  a  luna 
then.     The  beauties!" 

The  Harvester  selected  a  knife  from  the  box  and  began 
carving  the  stick  slowly  and  carefully.  His  brain  was 
busy,  for  presently  he  glanced  at  the  floor. 

"She'd  object  to  that!"  he  said  emphatically.  "A 
man  could  no  more  sit  and  work  where  he  pleased  than 
he  could  fly.  At  least  I  know  mother  never  would  have 
it,  and  she  was  no  nagger,  either.  What  a  mother  she 
was!  If  one  only  could  stop  the  lonely  feeling  that  will 
creep  in,  and  the  aching  hunger  born  with  the  body,  for 
a  mate;  if  a  fellow  only  could  stop  it  with  a  woman  like 
mother!  How  she  revelled  in  sunshine  and  beauty! 
How  she  loved  earth  and  air!  How  she  went  straight  to 
the  marrow  of  the  finest  line  in  the  best  book  I  could 
bring  from  the  library!  How  clean  and  true  she  was  and 
how  unyielding!  I  can  hear  her  now,  holding  me  with 
her  last  breath  to  my  promise.     If  I  could  marry  a  girl 

like  mother great  Caesar!     You'd  see  me  buying  an 

automobile  to  make  the  run  to  the  county  clerk.  Wouldn't 
that  be  great!  Think  of  coming  in  from  a  long,  difficult 
day,  to  find  a  hot  supper,  and  a  girl  such  as  she  must  have 
been,  .waiting  for  me !  Bel,  if  I  thought  there  was  a  woman 
similar  to  her  in  all  the  world,  and  I  had  even  the  ghost  of 
a  chance  to  win  her,  I'd  call  you  in  and  forgive  you.     But 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  13 

I  know  the  girls  of  to-day.  I  pass  them  on  the  roads,  on 
the  streets,  see  them  in  the  cafes,  stores,  and  at  the  library. 
Why  even  the  nurses  at  the  hospital,  for  all  the  gravity 
of  their  positions,  are  a  giggling,  silly  lot;  and  they  never 
know  that  the  only  time  they  look  and  act  presentably  to 
me  is  when  they  stop  their  chatter,  put  on  their  uni- 
forms, and  go  to  work.  Some  of  them  are  pretty,  then. 
There's  a  little  blue-eyed  one,  but  all  she  needs  is  feathers 
to  make  her  a  'ha!  ha!  bird.'     Drat  that  dog!" 

The  Harvester  took  the  candlestick  and  the  box  of 
knives,  opened  the  door,  and  returned  to  the  stoop.  Bel- 
shazzar  arose,  pleading  in  his  eyes,  and  cautiously  ad- 
vanced a  few  steps.  The  man  bent  over  his  work  and 
paid  not  the  slightest  heed,  so  the  discouraged  dog  sank  to 
earth  and  fixedly  watched  the  unresponsive  master.  The 
carving  of  the  candlestick  went  on  steadily.  Occasionally 
the  Harvester  lifted  his  head  and  repeatedly  sucked  his 
lungs  full  of  air.  Sometimes  for  an  instant  he  scanned 
the  surface  of  the  lake  for  signs  of  breaking  fish  or  splash 
of  migrant  water  bird.  Again  his  gaze  wandered  up  the 
steep  hill,  crowned  with  giant  trees,  whose  swelling  buds 
he  could  see  and  smell.  Straight  before  him  lay  a  low 
marsh,  through  which  the  little  creek  that  gurgled  and 
tumbled  down  hill  curved,  crossed  the  drive  some  distance 
below,  and  entered  the  lake  of  Lost  Loons. 

While  the  trees  were  bare,  and  when  the  air  was  clear  as 
now,  he  could  see  the  spires  of  Onabasha,  five  miles  away, 
intervening  cultivated  fields,  stretches  of  wood,  the  long 
black  line  of  the  railway,  and  the  swampy  bottom  lands 


< 


14  THE  HARVESTER 

gradually  rising  to  the  culmination  of  the  tree-crowned 
summit  above  him.  His  cocks  were  crowing  warlike 
challenges  to  rivals  on  neighbouring  farms.  His  hens 
were  carolling  their  spring  egg-song.  In  the  barn  yard 
ganders  were  screaming  stridently.  Over  the  lake  and  the 
cabin,  with  clapping  snowy  wings,  his  white  doves  cir- 
cled in  a  last  joy-flight  before  seeking  their  cotes  in  the 
stable  loft.  As  the  light  grew  fainter,  the  Harvester 
worked  slower.  Often  he  leaned  against  the  casing,  and 
closed  his  eyes  to  rest  them.  Sometimes  #he  whistled 
snatches  of  old  songs  to  which  his  mother  had  cradled 
him,  and  again  bits  of  opera  and  popular  music  he  had 
heard  on  the  streets  of  Onabasha.  As  he  worked,  the 
sun  went  down  and  a  half  moon  appeared  above  the  wood 
across  the  lake.  Once  it  seemed  as  if  it  were  a  silver  bowl 
set  on  the  branch  of  a  giant  oak;  higher,  it  rested  a  tilted 
crescent  on  the  rim  of  a  cloud. 

The  dog  waited  until  he  could  endure  it  no  longer,  and 
straightening  from  his  crouching  position,  he  took  a  few 
velvet  steps  forward,  making  faint,  whining  sounds  in  his 
throat.  When  the  man  neither  turned  his  head  nor  gave 
him  a  glance,  Belshazzar  sank  to  earth  again,  satisfied 
for  the  moment  with  being  a  little  closer.  Across  Loon 
Lake  came  the  wavering  voice  of  a  night  love  song. 
The  Harvester  remembered  that  as  a  boy  he  had  shrunk 
from  those  notes  until  his  mother  explained  that  they 
were  made  by  a  little  brown  owl  asking  for  a  mate  to 
come  and  live  in  his  hollow  tree.  Now  he  rather  liked 
the  sound.     It  was  eloquent  of  earnest  pleading.     With 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  15 

the  lonely  bird  on  one  side,  and  the  reproachful  dog  eyes 
on  the  other,  the  man  grinned  rather  foolishly. 

Between  two  fires,  he  thought.  If  that  dog  ever 
catches  my  eye  he  will  come  tearing  as  a  cyclone,  and  I 
would  not  kick  him  again  for  a  hundred  dollars.  First 
time  I  ever  struck  him,  and  didn't  intend  to  then.  So 
blame  mad  and  disappointed  my  foot  just  shot  out  before 
I  knew  it.  There  he  lies  half  dead  to  make  up,  but  I'm 
blest  if  I  forgive  him  in  a  hurry.  And  there  is  that 
insane  little  owl  screeching  for  a  mate.  If  I'd  start  out 
making  sounds  like  that,  all  the  girls  would  line  up  and 
compete  for  possession  of  my  happy  home. 

The  Harvester  laughed  and  at  the  sound  Belshazzar 
took  courage  and  advanced  five  steps  before  he  sank  belly 
to  earth  again.  The  owl  continued  its  song.  The  Har- 
vester imitated  the  cry  and  at  once  it  responded.  He 
called  again  and  leaned  back  waiting.  The  notes  came 
closer.  The  Harvester  cried  once  more  and  peered  across 
the  lake,  watching  for  the  shadow  of  silent  wings.  The 
moon  was  high  above  the  trees  now,  the  knife  dropped  in 
the  box,  the  long  fingers  closed  around  the  stick,  the  head 
rested  against  the  casing,  and  the  man  intoned  the  cry 
with  all  his  skill,  and  then  watched  and  waited.  He  had 
been  straining  his  eyes  over  the  carving  until  they  were 
tired,  and  when  he  watched  for  the  bird  the  moonlight 
tried  them;  for  it  touched  the  lightly  rippling  waves  of 
the  lake  in  a  line  of  yellow  light  that  stretched  straight 
across  the  water  from  the  opposite  bank,  directly  to  the 
gravel  bed  below,  where  lay  the  bathing  pool.     It  made 


16  THE  HARVESTER 

a  path  of  gold  that  wavered  and  shimmered  as  the  water 
moved  gently,  but  it  appeared  sufficiently  material  to 
resemble  a  bridge  spanning  the  lake. 

"Seems  as  if  I  could  walk  it,"  muttered  the  Harvester. 

The  owl  cried  again  and  the  man  intently  watched  the 
opposite  bank.  He  could  not  see  the  bird,  but  in  the 
deep  wood  where  he  thought  it  might  be  he  began  to 
discern  a  misty,  moving  shimmer  of  white.  Marvelling, 
he  watched  closer.  So  slowly  he  could  not  detect  motion 
it  advanced,  rising  in  height  and  taking  shape. 

"Do  I  end  this  day  by  seeing  a  ghost?"  he  queried. 

He  gazed  intently  and  saw  that  a  white  figure  really 
moved  in  the  woods  of  the  opposite  bank. 

"Must  be  some  boys  playing  fool  pranks!"  exclaimed 
the  Harvester. 

He  watched  fixedly  with  interested  face,  and  then 
amazement  wiped  out  all  other  expression  and  he  sat 
motionless,  breathless,  looking,  intently  looking.  For 
the  white  object  came  straight  toward  the  water  and  at 
the  very  edge  unhesitatingly  stepped  upon  the  bridge  of 
gold  and  lightly,  easily  advanced  in  his  direction.  The  man 
waited.  On  came  the  figure  and  as  it  drew  closer  he  could 
see  that  it  was  a  very  tall,  extremely  slender  woman, 
wrapped  in  soft  robes  of  white.  She  stepped  along 
the  slender  line  of  the  gold  bridge  with  grace  un- 
equalled. 

From  the  water  arose  a  shining  mist,  and  behind  the 
advancing  figure  a  wall  of  light  outlined  and  rimmed  her 
in  a  setting  of  gold.     As  she  neared  the  shore  the  liar- 


BELSHAZZAR'S  DECISION  17 

vester's  blood  began  to  race  in  his  veins  and  his  lips  parted 
in  wonder.  First  she  was  like  a  slender  birch  trunk,  then 
she  resembled  a  wild  lily,  and  soon  she  was  close  enough 
to  prove  that  she  was  young  and  very  lovely.  Heavy 
braids  of  dark  hair  rested  on  her  head  as  a  coronet.  Her 
forehead  was  low  and  white.  Her  eyes  were  wide-open 
wells  of  darkness,  her  rounded  cheeks  faintly  pink,  and 
her  red  lips  smiling  invitation.  Her  throat  was  long, 
very  white,  and  the  hands  that  caught  up  the  fleecy  robe 
around  her  were  rose-coloured  and  slender.  In  a  panic 
the  Harvester  saw  that  the  trailing  robe  swept  the  undu- 
lant  gold  water,  but  was  not  wet;  the  feet  that  alternately 
showed  as  she  advanced  were  not  purple  with  cold,  but 
warm  with  a  pink  glow. 

She  was  coming  straight  toward  him,  wonderful, 
alluring,  lovely  beyond  any  woman  the  Harvester  ever 
had  seen.  Straightway  the  fountains  of  twenty-six  years' 
repression  overflowed  in  the  breast  of  the  man  and  all 
his  being  ran  toward  her  in  a  wave  of  desire.  On  she 
came,  and  now  her  tender  feet  were  on  the  white  gravel. 
When  he  could  see  clearly  she  was  even  more  beautiful 
than  she  had  appeared  at  a  distance.  He  opened  his  lips, 
but  no  sound  came.  He  struggled  to  rise,  but  his  legs 
would  not  bear  his  weight.  Helpless,  he  sank  against 
the  casing.  The  girl  walked  to  his  feet,  bent,  placed  a 
hand  on  each  of  his  shoulders,  and  smiled  into  his  eyes. 
He  could  scent  the  flower-like  odour  of  her  body  and 
wrapping,  even  her  hair.  He  struggled  frantically  to 
speak  to  her  as  she  leaned  closer,  yet  closer,  and  softly 


1 8  THE  HARVESTER 

but  firmly  laid  lips  of  pulsing  sweetness  on  his  in  a  delib- 
erate kiss. 

The  Harvester  was  on  his  feet  now.  Belshazzar  shrank 
into  the  shadows. 

"Come  back!"  cried  the  man.  "Come  back!  For 
the  love  of  mercy,  where  are  you?" 

He  ran  stumblingly  toward  the  lake.  The  bridge  of 
gold  was  there,  the  little  owl  cried  lonesomely;  and  did 
he  see  or  did  he  only  dream  he  saw  a  mist  of  white  vanish- 
ing in  the  opposite  wood? 

His  breath  came  between  dry  lips,  and  he  circled  the 
cabin  searching  eagerly,  but  he  could  find  nothing,  hear 
nothing,  save  the  dog  at  his  heels.  He  hurried  to  the 
stoop  and  stood  gazing  at  the  molten  path  of  moonlight. 
One  minute  he  was  half  frozen,  the  next  a  rosy  glow 
enfolded  him.  Slowly  he  lifted  a  hand  and  touched  his 
lips.  Then  he  raised  his  eyes  from  the  water  and  swept 
the  sky  in  a  penetrant  gaze. 

"My  gracious  Heavenly  Father,"  said  the  Harvester 
reverently.     "Would  it  be  like  that?" 


CHAPTER  II 
The  Effect  of  a  Dream 

FULLY  convinced  at  last  that  he  had  been  dream- 
ing,  the  Harvester    picked    up   his    knives    and 
candlestick   and   entered    the    cabin.     He    placed 
them  on  a  shelf  and  turned  away,  but  after  a  second's 
hesitation   he   closed   the  box   and   arranged   the   sticks 
neatly.     Then  he  set  the  room  in  order  and  carefully 
swept  the  floor.     As  he  replaced  the  broom  he  thought 
for  an  instant,  then  opened  the  door  and  whistled  softly. 
Belshazzar  came  at  a  rush.     The  Harvester  pushed  the 
plate  of  food  toward  the  hungry  dog  and  he  ate  greedily. 
The  man  returned  to  the  front  room  and  closed  the  door. 
He  stood  a  long  time  before  his  shelf  of  books,  at  last 
selected   a  volume  of   "Medicinal   Plants"   and   settled 
to  study.     His  supper  finished,  Belshazzar  came  scratch- 
ing and  whining   at  the  door.     Several  times  the  man 
lifted  his  head  and  glanced  in  that  direction,  but  he  only 
returned  to  his  book  and  read  again.     Tired  and  sleepy, 
at  last,  he  placed  the  volume  on  the  shelf,  went  to  a 
closet  for  a  pair  of  bath  towels,  and  hung  them  across  a 
chair.     Then   he   undressed,   opened   the   door,    and    ran 
for  the  lake.     He  plunged  with  a  splash  and  swam  vigor- 

19 


20  THE  HARVESTER 

ously  for  a  few  minutes,  his  white  body  growing  pink 
under  the  sting  of  the  chilled  water.  Over  and  over  he 
scanned  the  golden  bridge  to  the  moon,  and  stood  an 
instant  dripping  on  the  gravel  of  the  landing  to  make  sure 
that  no  dream  woman  was  crossing  the  wavering  floor. 
He  rubbed  to  a  glow  and  turned  back  the  covers  of  his 
bed.  The  door  and  window  stood  wide.  Before  he  lay 
down,  the  Harvester  paused  in  arrested  motion  a  second, 
then  stepped  to  the  kitchen  door  and  lifted  the  latch. 

As  the  man  drew  the  covers  over  him,  the  dog's  nose 
began  making  an  opening,  and  a  little  later  he  quietly 
walked  into  the  room.  The  Harvester  rested,  facing 
the  lake.  The  dog  sniffed  at  his  shoulder,  but  the  man 
was  rigid.  Then  the  click  of  nails  could  be  heard  on  the 
floor  as  Belshazzar  went  to  the  opposite  side.  At  his 
accustomed  place  he  paused  and  set  one  foot  on 'the  bed. 
There  was  not  a  sound,  so  he  lifted  the  other.  Then 
one  at  a  time  he  drew  up  his  hind  feet  and  crouched  as 
he  had  on  the  gravel.  The  man  lay  watching  the  bright 
bridge.  The  moonlight  entered  the  window  and  flooded 
the  room.  The  strong  lines  on  the  weather-beaten  face 
of  the  Plarvester  were  mellowed  in  the  light,  and  he 
appeared  young  and  good  to  see.  His  lithe  figure  stretched 
the  length  of  the  bed,  his  hair  appeared  almost  white, 
and  his  face,  touched  by  the  glorifying  light  of  the  moon, 
was  a  study. 

One  instant  his  countenance  was  swept  with  ultimate 
scorn;  then  gradually  that  would  fade  and  the  lines  soften, 
until   his   lips   curved   in   child-like   appeal   and   his   eyes 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  21 

were  filled  with  pleading.  Several  times  he  lifted  a 
hand  and  gently  touched  his  lips,  as  if  a  kiss  were  a  mate- 
rial thing  and  would  leave  tangible  evidence  of  having 
been  given.  After  a  long  time  his  eyes  closed  and  he 
scarcely  was  unconscious  before  Belshazzar's  cold  nose 
touched  the  outstretched  hand  and  the  Harvester  lifted 
and  laid  it  on  the  dog's  head. 

"Forgive  me,  Bel,"  he  muttered.  "I  never  did  that. 
I  wouldn't  have  hurt  you  for  anything.  It  happened 
before  I  had  time  to  think. 

They  both  fell  asleep.  The  clear-cut  lines  of  manly 
strength  on  the  face  of  the  Harvester  were  touched  to 
tender  beauty.  He  lay  smiling  softly.  Far  in  the  night 
he  realized  the  frost-chill  and  divided  the  coverlet  with 
the  happy  Belshazzar. 

The  golden  dream  never  came  again.  There  was  no 
need.  It  had  done  its  perfect  work.  The  Harvester 
awoke  the  next  morning  a  different  man.  His  face  was 
youthful  and  alive  with  alert  anticipation.  He  began 
his  work  with  eager  impetuosity,  whistling  and  singing 
the  while,  and  he  found  time  to  play  with  and  talk  to 
Belshazzar,  until  that  glad  beast  almost  wagged  off  his 
tail  in  delight.  They  breakfasted  together  and  arranged 
the  rooms  with  unusual  care. 

"You  see,"  explained  the  Harvester  to  the  dog,  "we 
must  walk  neatly  after  this.  Maybe  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  fate.  Possibly  your  answer  was  right.  There 
might  be  a  girl  in  the  world  for  me.  I  don't  expect  it, 
but  there  is  a  possibility  that  she  may  find  us  before  we 


22  THE  HARVESTER 

locate  her.  Anyway,  we  should  work  and  be  ready. 
All  the  old  stock  in  the  store-house  goes  out  as  soon  as 
we  can  cart  it.  A  new  cabin  shall  rise  as  fast  as  we 
can  build  it.  There  must  be  a  basement  and  furnace, 
too.  Dream  women  don't  have  cold  feet,  but  if  there  is 
a  girl  living  like  that,  and  she  is  coming  to  us  or  waiting 
for  us  to  come  to  her,  we  must  have  a  comfortable  home 
to  offer.  There  should  be  a  bathroom,  too.  She  couldn't 
dip  in  the  lake  as  we  do.  And  until  we  build  the  new 
house  we  must  keep  the  old  one  clean,  just  on  the  chance 
of  her  happening  on  us.  She  might  be  visiting  some 
of  the  neighbours  or  come  from  town  with  some  one 
or  I  might  see  her  on  the  street  or  at  the  library  or  hos- 
pital or  in  some  of  the  stores.  For  the  love  of  mercy, 
help  me  watch  for  her,  Bel!  The  half  of  my  kingdom 
if  you  will  point  her  for  me!" 

The  Harvester  worked  as  he  talked.  He  set  the  rooms 
in  order,  put  away  the  remains  of  breakfast,  and  started 
to  the  stable.  He  turned  back  and  stood  for  a  long  time, 
scanning  the  face  in  the  kitchen  mirror.  Once, he  went 
to  the  door,  then  he  hesitated,  and  finally  took  out  his 
shaving  set  and  used  it  carefully  and  washed  vigorously. 
He  pulled  his  shirt  together  at  the  throat,  and  hunting 
among  his  clothing,  found  an  old  red  tie  that  he  knotted 
around  his  neck.  This  so  changed  his  every-day  appear- 
ance that  he  felt  wonderfully  dressed  and  whistled  gaily 
on  his  way  to  the  barn.  There  he  confided  in  the  old 
gray  mare  as  he  curried  and  harnessed  her  to  the  spring 
wagon. 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  23 

"Hardly  know  me,  do  you,  Betsy?"  he  inquired. 
"Well  I'll  explain.  Our  friend  Bel,  here,  has  doomed  me 
to  go  courting  this  year.  Wouldn't  that  dumfound  you? 
I  was  mad  as  hornets  at  first,  but  since  I've  slept  on  the 
idea,  I  rather  like  it.  Maybe  we  are  too  lonely  and  dull. 
Perhaps  the  right  woman  would  make  life  a  very  differ- 
ent matter.  Last  night  I  saw  her,  Betsy,  and  between 
us,  I  can't  tell  even  you.  She  was  the  loveliest,  sweetest 
girl  on  earth,  and  that  is  all  I  can  say.  We  are  going  to 
watch  for  her  to-day,  and  every  trip  we  make,  until  we 
find  her,  if  it  requires  a  hundred  years.  Then  some 
glad  time  we  are  going  to  locate  her,  and  when  we  do, 
well,  you  just  keep  your  eye  on  us,  Betsy,  and  you'll 
see  how  courting  straight  from  the  heart  is  done,  even 
if  we  lack  experience." 

Intoxicated   with    new    and    delightful    sensations    his 
tongue  worked  faster  than  his  hands. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  old  faithful,  that  I  am  in 
love  this  morning,"  he  said.  "In  love  heels  over,  Betsy, 
for  the  first  time  in  all  my  life.  If  any  man  ever  was  a 
bigger  fool  than  I  am  to-day,  it  would  comfort  me  to 
know  about  it.  I  am  acting  like  an  idiot,  Betsy.  I  know 
that,  but  I  wish  you  could  understand  how  I  feel.  Power! 
I  am  the  head-waters  of  Niagara!  I  could  pluck  down 
the  stars  and  set  them  in  different  places!  I  could  twist 
the  tail  from  the  comet!  I  could  twirl  the  globe  on  my 
palm  and  topple  mountains  and  wipe  lakes  from  the 
surface!  I  am  a  live  man,  Betsy.  Existence  is  over. 
So  don't  you  go  at  any  tricks  or  I  might  pull  off  your 


24  THE  HARVESTER 

head.  Betsy,  if  you  see  the  tallest  girl  you  ever  saw, 
and  she  wears  a  dark  diadem,  and  has  big  black  eyes  and 
a  face  so  lovely  it  blinds  you,  why  you  have  seen  Her,  and 
you  balk,  right  on  the  spot,  and  stand  like  the  rock  of 
Gibraltar,  until  you  make  me  see  her,  too.  As  if  I  wouldn't 
know  she  was  coming  a  mile  away!  There's  more  I 
could  tell  you,  but  that  is  my  secret,  and  it's  too  precious 
to  talk  about,  even  to  my  best  friends.  Bel,  bring  Betsy 
to  the  store-room. " 

The  Harvester  tossed  the  hitching  strap  to  the  dog  and 
walked  down  the  driveway  to  a  low  structure  built  on 
the  embankment  beside  the  lake.  One  end  of  it  was  a 
dry-house  of  his  own  construction.  Here,  by  an  arrange- 
ment of  hot  water  pipes,  he  evaporated  many  of  the  barks, 
roots,  seeds,  and  leaves  he  grew  to  supply  large  concerns 
engaged  in  the  manufacture  of  drugs.  By  his  process 
crude  stock  was  thoroughly  cured,  yet  did  not  lose  in 
weight  and  colour  as  when  dried  in  the  sun  or  outdoor 
shade. 

So  the  Harvester  was  enabled  to  send  his  customers 
big  packages  of  brightly  coloured  raw  material,  and  the 
few  cents  per  pound  he  asked  in  advance  of  the  catalogued 
prices  were  paid  eagerly.  He  lived  alone,  and  never 
talked  of  his  work;  so  none  of  the  harvesters  of  the  fields 
adjoining  dreamed  of  the  extent  of  his  reaping.  The 
idea  had  been  his  own.  He  had  been  born  in  the  cabin 
in  which  he  now  lived.  His  father  and  grandfather 
were  old-time  hunters  of  skins  and  game.  They  had 
added  to  their  earnings  by  gathering  in   spring  and  fall 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  25 

the  few  medicinal  seeds,  leaves,  and  barks  they  knew. 
His  mother  had  been  of  different  type.  She  had 
loved  and  married  the  picturesque  young  hunter,  and 
gone  to  live  with  him  on  the  section  of  land  taken 
by  his  father.  She  found  life,  real  life,  vastly  different 
from  her  girlhood  dreams,  but  she  was  one  of  those 
changeless,  unyielding  women  who  suffer  silently,  but 
never  rue  a  bargain,  no  matter  how  badly  they  are 
cheated.  Her  only  joy  in  life  had  been  her  son.  For 
him  she  had  worked  and  saved  unceasingly,  and  when 
he  was  old  enough  she  sent  him  to  the  city  to  school 
and  kept  pace  with  him  in  the  lessons  he  brought  home 
at  night. 

Using  what  she  knew  of  her  husband's  work  as  a  guide, 
and  profiting  by  pamphlets  published  by  the  govern- 
ment, every  hour  of  the  time  outside  school  and  in 
summer  vacations  she  worked  in  the  woods  with  the  boy, 
gathering  herbs  and  roots  to  pay  for  his  education  and 
clothing.  So  the  son  passed  the  full  high-school  course, 
and  then,  selecting  such  branches  as  interested  him, 
continued  his  studies  alone. 

From  books  and  drug  pamphlets  he  had  learned  every 
medrcinal  plant,  shrub,  and  tree  of  his  vicinity,  and  for 
years  roamed  far  afield  and  through  the  woods  collecting. 
After  his  father's  death  expenses  grew  heavier  and  the 
boy  saw  that  he  must  earn  more  money.  His  mother 
frantically  opposed  his  going  to  the  city,  so  he  thought  out 
the  plan  of  transplanting  the  stuff  he  gathered,  to  the 
land  they  owned  and  cultivating  it  there.     This  work 


26  THE  HARVESTER 

was  well  developed  when  he  was  twenty,  but  that  year 
he  lost  his  mother. 

From  that  time  he  went  on  steadily  enlarging  his 
species,  transplanting  trees,  shrubs,  vines,  and  medicinal 
herbs  from  such  locations  as  he  found  them  to  similar 
conditions  on  his  land.  Six  years  he  had  worked  culti- 
vating these  beds,  and  hunting  through  the  woods  on 
the  river  banks,  government  land,  the  great  Limberlost 
Swamp,  and  neglected  corners  of  earth  for  barks  and 
roots.  He  occasionally  made  long  trips  across  the 
country  for  rapidly  diminishing  plants  he  found  in  the 
woodland  of  men  who  did  not  care  to  bother  with  a  few 
specimens,  and  many  big  beds  of  profitable  herbs,  ex- 
tinct for  miles  around,  now  flourished  on  the  banks  of 
Loon  Lake,  in  the  marsh,  and  through  the  forest  rising 
above.  To  what  extent  and  value  his  venture  had  grown, 
no  one  save  the  Harvester  knew.  When  his  neighbours 
twitted  him  with  being  too  lazy  to  plow  and  sow,  of 
" mooning"  over  books,  and  derisively  sneered  when  they 
spoke  of  him  as  the  Harvester  of  the  Woods  or  the 
Medicine  Man,  David  Langston  smiled  and  went  his  way. 

How  lonely  he  had  been  since  the  death  of  his  mother 
he  never  realized  until  that  morning  when  a  new 'idea 
really  had  taken  possession  of  him.  From  the  store- 
house he  heaped  packages  of  seeds,  dried  leaves,  barks, 
and  roots  into  the  wagon.  But  he  kept  a  generous  supply 
of  each,  for  he  prided  himself  on  being  able  to  fill  all 
orders  that  reached  him.  Yet  the  load  he  took  to 
the   city   was    much    larger   than   usual.     As    he    drove 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  27 

down    the    hill    and    passed    the    cabin    he    studied    the 
location. 

"The  drainage  is  perfect,"  he  said  to  Belshazzar  beside 
him  on  the  seat.      "So  is  the  situation.     We  get  the  cool 
breezes  from  the  lake  in  summer  and  the  hillside  warmth 
in  winter.     View  down  the  valley  can't  be  surpassed.     We 
will  grub  out  that  thicket  in  front,  move  over  the  drive- 
way, and  build  a  couple  of  two-story  rooms,  with  base- 
ment for  cellar  and  furnace,  and  a  bathroom  in  front  of 
the  cabin  and  use  it  with  some  fixing  over  for  a  dining- 
room   and   kitchen.     Then   we   will    deepen   and   widen 
Singing  Water,  stick  a  bushel  of  bulbs  and  roots  and 
sow  a  peck  of  flower  seeds  in  the  marsh,  plant  a  hedge 
along  the  drive,  and  straighten  the  lake  shore  a  little.     I 
can  make  a  beautiful  wild-flower  garden  and    arrange 
so  that  with  one  season's   work  this  will   appear  very 
well.     We  will  express  this  stuff*  and  then  select  and  fell 
some  trees   to-night.     Soon   as   the  frost  is  out  of  the 
ground  we  will  dig  our  basement  and  lay  the  foundations. 
The  neighbours  will  help  me  raise  the  logs;  after  that  I 
can  finish  the  inside  work.     I've  got  some  dried  maple, 
cherry,  and  walnut  logs  that  would  work  into  beautiful 
furniture.     I  haven't  forgotten  the  prices  McLean  offered 
me.     I  can   use  it  as  well   as  he.     Plain  way  the  best 
things   are    built    now,   I   believe   I   could  make   tables 
and  couches  myself.     I  can  see  plans  in  the  magazines 
at  the  library.     I'll  take  a  look  when  I  get  this  off.     I 
feel  strong  enough  to  do  all  of  it  in  a  few  days  and  I  am 
crazy  to  commence.     But  I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin. 


28  THE  HARVESTER 

There  are  about  fifty  things  I'd  like  to  do.  But  to  fell 
and  dry  the  trees  and  get  the  walls  up  come  first,  I  believe. 
What  do  you  think,  old  unreliable?" 

Belshazzar  thought  the  world  was  a  place  of  beauty 
that  morning.  He  sniffed  the  icy,  odorous  air  and  with 
tilted  head  watched  the  birds.  A  wearied  band  of  ducks 
had  settled  on  Loon  Lake  to  feed  and  rest,  for  there  was 
nothing  to  disturb  them.  Signs  were  numerous  every- 
where prohibiting  hunters  from  firing  over  the  Harves- 
ter's land.  Beside  the  lake,  down  the  valley,  crossing 
the  railroad,  and  in  the  farther  lowlands,  the  dog  was  a 
nervous  quiver,  as  he  constantly  scented  game  or  saw 
birds  he  wanted  to  point.  But  when  they  neared  the 
city,  he  sat  silently  watching  everything  with  alert 
eyes.  As  they  reached  the  outer  fringe  of  residences 
the  Harvester  spoke  to  him. 

"Now  remember,  Bel,"  he  said.  "Point  me  the 
tallest  girl  you  ever  saw,  with  a  big  braid  of  dark  hair, 
shining  black  eyes,  and  red  velvet  lips,  sweeter  than  wild 
crab  apple  blossoms.  Make  a  dead  set!  Don't  allow 
her  to  pass  us.  Heaven  is  going  to  begin  in  Medicine 
Woods  when  we  find  her  and  prove  to  her  that  there 
lies  her  happy  home. 

"When  we  find  her,"  repeated  the  Harvester  softly 
and  exultantly.     "When  we  find  her!" 

He  said  it  again  and  again,  pronouncing  the  words  with 
tender  modulations.  Because  he  was  chanting  it  in 
his  soul,  in  his  heart,  in  his  brain,  with  his  lips,  he  had  a 
hasty  glance  for  every  woman   he  passed.     Light  hair, 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  29 

blue  eyes,  and  short  figures  got  only  casual  inspection: 
but  any  tall  girl  with  dark  hair  and  eyes  endured  rather 
close  scrutiny  that  morning.  He  drove  to  the  express 
office  and  delivered  his  packages  and  then  to  the  hospital. 
In  the  hall  the  blue-eyed  nurse  met  him  and  cried  gaily, 
"Good  morning,  Medicine  Man!" 

"Ugh!  I  scalp  pale-faces!"  threatened  the  Harvester, 
but  the  girl  was  not  afraid  and  stood  before  him  laughing. 
She  might  have  gone  her  way  quite  as  well.  She  could 
not  have  differed  more  from  the  girl  of  the  newly  begun 
quest.  The  man  merely  touched  his  wide-brimmed  hat 
as  he  walked  around  her  and  entered  the  office  of  the 
chief  surgeon. 

A  slender,  gray-eyed  man  with  white  hair  turned  from 
his  desk,  smiled  warmly,  pushed  a  chair,  and  reached  a 
welcomiug  hand. 

"Ah  good  morning,  David,"  he  cried.  "You  bring 
the  very  breath  of  spring  with  you.  Are  you  at  the 
maples  yet?" 

"Begin  to-morrow,"  was  the  answer.  "I  want  to  get 
all  my  old  stock  off  hands.  Sugar  water  comes  next, 
and  then  the  giddy  sassafras  and  spring  roots  rush  me, 
and  after  that,  harvest  begins  full  force,  and  all  my  land 
is  teeming.  This  is  going  to  be  a  big  year.  Everything 
is  sufficiently  advanced  to  be  worth  while.  I  have 
decided  to  enlarge  the  buildings." 

"Store-room  too  small?" 

"Everything!"  said  the  Harvester  comprehensively. 
"I  am  crowded  everywhere." 


30  THE  HARVESTER 

The  keen  gray  eyes  bent  on  him  searchingly. 

"Ho,  ho!"  laughed  the  doctor.  '"Crowded  every- 
where.' I  had  not  heard  of  cramped  living  quarters 
before.     When  did  you  meet  her?" 

"Last  night,"  replied  the  Harvester.  "Her  home  is 
already  in  construction.  I  chose  seven  trees  as  I  drove 
here  that  are  going  to  fall  before  night. " 

So  casual  was  the  tone  the  doctor  was  disarmed. 

"I  am  trying  your  nerve  remedy,"  he  said. 

Instantly  the  Harvester  tingled  with  interest. 

"How  does  it  work?"  he  inquired. 

"Finely!  Had  a  case  that  presented  just  the  symp- 
toms you  mentioned.  High-school  girl  broken  down 
from  trying  to  lead  her  classes,  lead  her  fraternity,  lead 

her  parents,  lead  society the  Lord  only  knows  what 

else.  Gone  all  to  pieces!  Pretty  a  case  of  nervous 
prostration  as  you  ever  saw  in  a  person  of  fifty.  I  began 
on  fractional  doses  with  it,  and  at  last  got  her  where  she 
can  rest.  It  did  precisely  what  you  claimed  it  would, 
David." 

"Good!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Good!  I  hoped  it 
would  be  effective.  Thank  you  for  the  test.  It  will 
give  me  confidence  when  I  go  before  the  chemists  with  it. 
I've  got  a  couple  more  compounds  I  wish  you  would 
try  when  you  have  safe  cases  where  you  can  do  no  harm. " 

"You  are  cautious  for  a  young  man,  son!" 
"The  woods  do  that.     You  not  only  discover  rrfiracles 
and  marvels  in  them,  you  not  only  trace  evolution  and  the 
origin  of  species,  but  you  get  the  greatest  lessons  taught 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  31 

in  all  the  world  ground  into  you  early  and  alone 

courage,  caution,  and  patience." 

"Those  are  the  rocks  on  which  men  are  stranded  as  a 
rule.     You  think  you  can  breast  them,  David?" 

The  Harvester  laughed. 

"Aside  from  breaking  a  certain  promise  mother  rooted 
in  the  blood  and  bones  of  me,  if  I  am  afraid  of  anything, 
I  don't  know  it.     You  don't  often  see  me  going  head- 
long, do  you?     As  to  patience!     Ten  years  ago  I  began 
removing  every  tree,  bush,  vine,  and  plant  of  medicinal 
value  from  the  woods  around  to  my  land;  I  set  and  sowed 
acres  in  ginseng,  knowing  I  must  nurse,  tend,  and  cul- 
tivate seven  years.     If  my  neighbours  had  understood 
what  I  was  attempting,  what  do  you  think  they  would 
have  said?     Cranky  and  lazy  would  have  become  adjec- 
tives too  mild.     Lunatic  would  have  expressed  it  better. 
That's  close  the  general  opinion,   anyway.     Because  I 
will  not  fell  my  trees,  and  the  woods  hide  the  work  I  do, 
it  is  generally  conceded  that  I  spend  my  time  in  the  sun 
reading  a  book.     I  do,  as  often  as  I  have  an  opportunity. 
But  the  point  is  that  this  fall,  when  I  harvest  that  ginseng 
bed,  I  will  clear  more  money  than  my  stiffest  detractor 
ever  saw  at  one  time.     I'll  wager  my  bank  account  won't 
compare  so  unfavourably  with  the  best  of  them  now. 
I   did  well   this   morning.     Yes,   I'll   admit  this   much: 
I  am  reasonably  cautious,  I'm  a  pattern  for  patience, 
and  my  courage  never  has  failed  me  yet,  anyway.     But 
I  must  rap  on  wood;  for  that  boast  is  a  sign  that  I  prob- 
ably will  meet  my  Jonah  soon." 


32  THE  HARVESTER 

"David,  you  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart,"  said  the 
doctor.  "I  love  you  more  than  any  other  friend  I  have. 
I  wouldn't  see  a  hair  of  your  head  changed  for  the  world. 
Now  I've  got  to  hurry  to  my  operation.  Remain  as 
long  as  you  please  if  there  is  anything  that  interests  you; 
but  don't  let  the  giggling  little  nurse  that  always  haunts 
the  hall  when  you  come  make  any  impression.  She  is 
not  up  to  your  standard. " 

"Don't!"  said  the  Harvester.  "I've  learned  one  of 
the  big  lessons  of  life  since  last  I  saw  you,  Doc.  I  have 
no  standard.  There  is  just  one  woman  in  all  the  world 
for  me,  and  when  I  find  her  I  will  know  her,  and  I  will 
be  happy  for  even  a  glance;  as  for  that  talk  of  standards, 
I  will  be  only  too  glad  to  take  her  as  she  is.  " 

"David!     I  supposed  what  you   said   about  enlarged 
buildings  was  nonsense  or  applied  to  store-rooms." 
"Go  to  your  operation!" 

"David,  if  you  send  me  in  suspense,  I  may  operate 
on  the  wrong  man.     What  has  happened?" 
"Nothing!"  said  the  Harvester.     "Nothing!" 
"David,  it  is  not  like  you  to  evade.     What  happened ? " 
"Nothing!     On  my  word!  I  merely  saw  a  vision  and 
dreamed  a  dream." 

"You!  A  rank  materialist!  Saw  a  vision  and 
dreamed  a  dream!  And  you  call  it  nothing.  Worst 
thing  that  could  happen!  Whenever  a  man  of  common- 
sense  goes  to  seeing  things  that  don't  exist,  and  dreaming 
dreams,  why  look  out!  What  did  you  see?  What  did 
you  dream?" 


THE  EFFECT  OF  A  DREAM  33 

"You  woman!"  laughed  the  Harvester.  "Talk  about 
curiosity!  I'd  have  to  be  a  poet  to  describe  my  vision, 
and  the  dream  was  strictly  private.  I  couldn't  tell  it, 
not  for  any  price  you  could  mention.  Go  to  your  oper- 
ation." 

The  doctor  paused  on  the  threshold. 

"You  can't  fool  me,"  he  said.  "I  can  diagnose  you 
all  right.  You  are  poet  enough,  but  the  vision  was 
sacred;  and  when  a  man  won't  tell,  it's  always  and  forever 
a  woman.  I  know  all  now  I  ever  will,  because  I  know 
you,  David.  A  man  with  a  loose  mouth  and  a  low  mind 
drags  the  women  of  his  acquaintance  through  whatever 
mire  he  sinks  in;  but  you  couldn't  tell,  David,  not  even 
about  a  dream  woman.  Come  again  soon!  You  are 
my  elixir  of  life,  lad!  I  revel  in  the  atmosphere  you  bring. 
Wish  me  success  now,  I  am  going  to  a  difficult,  delicate 
operation." 

"I  do!"  cried  the  Harvester  heartily.  "I  do!  But 
you  can't  fail.  You  never  have  and  that  proves  you 
cannot!     Good-bye!" 

Down  the  street  went  the  Harvester,  passing  over  city 
pave  with  his  free,  swinging  stride,  his  head  high,  his 
face  flushed  with  vivid  outdoor  tints,  going  somewhere 
to  do  something  worth  while,  the  impression  always  left 
behind  him.  Men  envied  his  robust  appearance  and 
women  looked  twice,  always  twice,  and  sometimes 
oftener  if  there  was  any  opportunity;  but  twice  at  least 
was  the  rule.  He  left  a  little  roll  of  bills  at  the  bank  and 
started  toward  the  library.     When  he  entered  the  reading 


34  THE  HARVESTER 

room  an  attendant  with  an  eager  smile  hastily  came  to- 
ward him. 

"What  will  you  have  this  morning,  Mr.  Langston?"  she 
asked  in  the  voice  of  one  who  would  render  willing  service. 
"Not  the  big  books  to-day,"  laughed  the  Harvester. 
"I've  only  a  short  time.     I'll  glance  through  the  maga- 
zines." 

He  selected  several  from  a  table  and  going  to  a  corner 
settled  with  them  and  for  two  hours  was  deeply  engrossed. 
He  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket,  traced  lines,  and 
read  intently.  He  studied  the  placing  of  rooms,  the 
construction  of  furniture,  and  all  attractive  ideas  were 
noted.  When  at  last  he  arose  the  attendant  went  to 
replace  the  magazines  on  the  table.  They  had  been 
opened  widely,  and  as  she  turned  the  leaves  they 
naturally  fell  apart  at  the  plans  for  houses  or  articles 
of  furniture. 

The  Harvester  slowly  went  down  the  street.  Before 
every  furniture  store  he  paused  and  studied  the  designs 
displayed  in  the  windows.  Then  he  untied  Betsy  and 
drove  to  a  lumber  mill  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  and 
made  arrangements  to  have  some  freshly  felled  logs  of 
black  walnut  and  curly  maple  sawed  into  different  sizes 
and  put  through  a  course  in  drying. 

He  drove  back  to  Medicine  Woods  whistling,  singing, 
and  talking  to  Belshazzar  beside  him.  He  ate  a  hasty 
lunch  and  at  three  o'clock  was  in  the  forest,  blazing  and 
felling  slender,  straight-trunked  oak  and  ash  of  the 
desired  proportions. 


CHAPTER  III 

Harvesting  the  Forest 

THE  forest  is  never  so  wonderful  as  when  spring 
wrestles  with  winter  for  supremacy.  While 
the  earth  is  yet  ice  bound,  while  snows  occa- 
sionally fly,  spring  breathes  her  warmer  breath  of  ap- 
proach, and  all  nature  responds.  Sunny  knolls,  embank- 
ments, and  cleared  spaces  become  bare,  while  shadow 
spots  and  sheltered  nooks  remain  white.  This  perfumes 
the  icy  air  with  a  warmer  breath  of  melting  snow.  The 
sap  rises  in  the  trees  and  bushes,  sets  buds  swelling,  and 
they  distil  a  faint,  intangible  odour.  Deep  layers  of 
dead  leaves  cover  the  frozen  earth,  and  the  sun  shining 
on  them  raises  a  steamy  vapour  unlike  anything  else  in 
nature.  A  different  scent  rises  from  earth  where  the 
sun  strikes  it.  Lichen  faces  take  on  the  brightest  colours 
they  ever  wear,  and  rough,  coarse  mosses  emerge  in  rank 
growth  from  their  cover  of  snow  and  add  another  perfume 
to  mellowing  air.  This  combination  has  breathed  a 
strange  intoxication  into  the  breast  of  mankind  in  all 
ages,  and  bird  and  animal  life  prove  by  their  actions  that 
it  makes  the  same  appeal  to  them. 

35 


36  THE  HARVESTER 

Crows  caw  supremacy  from  tall  trees;  flickers,  drunk 
on  the  wine  of  nature,  flash  their  yellow-lined  wings 
and  red  crowns  among  trees  in  a  search  for  suitable 
building  places;  nut-hatches  run  head  foremost  down 
rough  trunks,  spying  out  larva?,  and  early  emerging  insects; 
titmice  chatter;  the  bold,  clear  whistle  of  the  cardinal 
sounds  never  so  gaily;  and  song  sparrows  pipe  from  every 
wayside  shrub  and  fence  post.  Coons  and  opossums 
stir  in  their  dens,  musk-rat  and  ground-hog  inspect  the 
weather,  while  squirrels  race  along  branches  and  bound 
from  tree  to  tree  like  winged  folk. 

All  of  them  could  have  outlined  the  holdings  of  the 
Harvester  almost  as  well  as  any  surveyor.  They  under- 
stood where  the  bang  of  guns  and  the  snap  of  traps 
menaced  life.  Best  of  all,  they  knew  where  cracked 
nuts,  handfuls  of  wheat,  oats,  and  crumbs  were  scattered 
on  the  ground,  and  where  suet  bones  dangled  from  bushes. 
Here,  too,  the  last  sheaf  from  the  small  wheat  field  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  was  stoutly  fixed  on  a  high  pole,  so  that 
the  grain  was  free  to  all  feathered  visitors. 

When  the  Harvester  hitched  Betsy,  loaded  his  spiles 
and  sap  buckets  into  the  wagon,  and  started  to  the 
woods  to  gather  the  offering  the  wet  maples  were  pouring 
down  their  swelling  sides,  almost  his  entire  family  came 
to  see  him.  They  knew  who  fed  and  passed  every  day 
among  them,  and  so  were  unafraid. 

After  the  familiarity  of  a  long,  cold  winter,  when  it  had 
been  easier  to  pick  up  scattered  food  than  to  search  for 
it,  they  became  so  friendly  with  the  man,  the  dog,  and 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  37 

the  gray  horse  that  they  hastily  snatched  the  food  offered 
at  the  barn  and  then  followed  through  the  woods.  The 
Harvester  always  was  particular  to  wear  large  pockets, 
for  it  was  good  company  to  have  living  creatures  flocking 
after  him,  trusting  to  his  bounty.  Ajax,  a  shimmering 
wonder  of  gorgeous  feathers,  sunned  on  the  ridge  pole 
of  the  old  log  stable,  preened,  spread  his  train,  and  uttered 
the  peacock  cry  of  defiance,  to  exercise  his  voice  or  to 
express  his  emotions  at  all  times.  But  at  feeding  hour 
he  descended  to  the  park  and  snatched  bites  from  the 
biggest  turkey  cocks  and  ganders  and  reigned  in  power 
absolute  over  ducks,  guineas,  and  chickens.  Then  he 
followed  to  the  barn  and  tried  to  frighten  crows  and 
jays,  and  the  gentle  white  doves  under  the  eaves. 

The  Harvester  walked  through  deep  leaves  and  snow 
covering  the  road  that  only  a  forester  could  have  dis- 
tinguished. Over  his  shoulder  he  carried  a  mattock, 
and  in  the  wagon  were  his  clippers  and  an  ax.  Behind 
him  came  Betsy  drawing  the  sap  buckets  and  big  evapo- 
rating kettles.  Through  the  wood  ranged  Belshazzar, 
the  craziest  dog  in  all  creation.  He  always  went  wild 
at  sap  time.  Here  was  none  of  the  monotony  of  trapping 
for  skins  around  the  lake.  This  marked  the  first  full 
day  in  the  woods  for  the  season.  He  ranged  as  he  pleased 
and  came  for  a  pat  or  a  look  of  confidence  when  he  grew 
lonely,  while  the  Harvester  worked. 

At  camp  the  man  unhitched  Betsy  and  tied  her  to  the 
wagon  and  for  several  hours  distributed  buckets.  Then 
he  hung  the  kettles  and  gathered  wood  for  the  fire.     At 


38  THE  HARVESTER 

noon  he  returned  to  the  cabin  for  lunch  and  brought  back 
a  load  of  empty  syrup  cans,  and  barrels  in  which  to 
collect  the  sap.  While  the  buckets  filled  at  the  dripping 
trees,  he  dug  roots  in  the  sassafras  thicket  to  fill  orders 
and  supply  the  demand  of  Onabasha  for  tea.  Several 
times  he  stopped  to  cut  an  especially  fine  tree. 

"You  know  I  hate  to  kill  you,"  he  apologized  to  the 
first  one  he  felled.  "But  it  certainly  must  be  legiti- 
mate for  a  man  to  take  enough  of  his  trees  to  build  a 
home.  And  no  other  house  is  possible  for  a  creature  of 
the  woods  but  a  cabin,  is  there?  The  birds  use  of  the 
material  they  find  here;  surely  I  have  the  right  to  do  the 
same.  Seems  as  if  nothing  else  would  serve,  at  least  for 
me.  I  was  born  and  reared  here,  I've  always  loved 
you;   of  course,  I  can't  use  anything  else  for  my  home." 

He  swung  the  ax  and  the  chips  flew  as  he  worked  on 
a  straight  half-grown  oak.  After  a  time  he  paused  an 
instant  and  rested,  and  as  he  did  so  he  looked  specula- 
tively at  his  work. 

"I  wonder  where  she  is  to-day,"  he  said.  "I  wonder 
what  she  is  going  to  think  of  a  log  cabin  in  the  woods. 
Maybe  she  has  been  reared  in  the  city  and  is  afraid  of  a 
forest.  She  may  not  like  houses  made  of  logs.  Possibly 
she  wron't  want  to  marry  a  Medicine  Man.  She  may 
dislike  the  man,  not  to  mention  his  occupation.  She  may 
think  it  coarse  and  common  to  work  out  of  doors  with 
your  hands,  although  I'd  have  to  argue  there  is  a  little 
brain  in  the  combination.  I  must  figure  out  all  these 
things.     But  there  is  one  on  the  lady:     She  should  have 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  39 

settled  these  points  before  she  became  quite  so  familiar. 
I  have  that  for  a  foundation  anyway,  so  I'll  go  on  cutting 
wood,  and  the  remainder  will  be  up  to  her  when  I  find 
her.  When  I  find  her,"  repeated  the  Harvester  slowly. 
"But  I  am  not  going  to  locate  her  very  soon  monkeying 
around  in  these  woods.  I  should  be  out  where  people 
are,  looking  for  her  right  now." 

He  chopped  steadily  until  the  tree  crashed  over,  and 
then,  noticing  a  rapidly  filling  bucket,  he  struck  the  ax 
in  the  wood  and  began  gathering  sap.  When  he  had 
made  the  round,  he  drove  to  the  camp,  filled  the  kettles, 
and  lighted  the  fire.  While  it  started  he  cut  and  scraped 
sassafras  roots,  and  made  clippings  of  tag  alder,  spice 
brush  and  white  willow  into  big  bundles  that  were  ready 
to  have  the  bark  removed  during  the  night  watch,  and 
then  cured  in  the  dry-house. 

He  went  home  at  evening  to  feed  the  poultry  and 
replenish  the  ever-burning  fire  of  the  engine  and  to 
keep  the  cabin  warm  enough  that  food  would  not  freeze. 
With  an  oilcloth  and  blankets  he  returned  to  camp  and 
throughout  the  night  tended  the  buckets  and  boiling 
sap,  and  worked  or  dozed  by  the  fire  between  times. 
Toward  the  end  of  boiling,  when  the  sap  was  becoming 
thick,  it  had  to  be  watched  with  especial  care  so  it  would 
not  scorch.  But  when  the  kettles  were  freshly  filled 
the  Harvester  sat  beside  them  and  carefully  split  tender 
twigs  of  willow  and  slipped  off  the  bark  ready  to  be 
spread  on  the  trays. 

"You    are   a   good    tonic,"    he   mused    as   he   worked, 


40  THE  HARVESTER 

"and  you  go  into  some  of  the  medicine  for  rheumatism. 
If  she  ever  has  it  we  will  give  her  some  of  you,  and 
then  she  will  be  all  right  again.  Strange  that  I  should 
be  preparing  medicinal  bark  by  the  sugar  camp  fire, 
but  I  have  to  make  this  hay,  not  while  the  sun  shines, 
but  when  the  bark  is  loose,  while  the  sap  is  rising.  Won- 
der who  will  use  this.  Depends  largely  on  where  I  sell  it. 
Anyway,  I  hope  it  will  take  the  pain  out  of  some  poor 
body.  Prices  so  low  now,  not  worth  gathering  unless 
I  can  kill  time  on  it  while  waiting  for  something  else. 
Never  got  over  seven  cents  a  pound  for  the  best  I  ever 
sold,  and  it  takes  a  heap  of  these  little  quills  to  make  a 

pound  when  they  are  dry.     That's  all  of  you about 

twenty -five  cents'  worth.  But  even  that  is  better  than 
doing  nothing  while  I  wait,  and  some  one  has  to  keep  the 
doctors  supplied  with  salicin  and  tannin,  so,  if  I  do, 
other  folks  needn't  bother." 

He  arose  and  poured  more  sap  into  the  kettles  as  it 
boiled  away  and  replenished  the  fire.  He  nibbled  a  twig 
when  he  began  on  the  spice  brush.  As  he  sat  on  the 
piled  wood,  and  bent  over  his  work  he  was  an  attractive 
figure.  His  face  shone  with  health  and  was  bright  with 
anticipation.  While  he  split  the  tender  bark  and  slipped 
out  the  wood  he  spoke  his  thoughts  slowly: 

"The  five  cents  a  pound  I'll  get  for  you  is  even  less, 
but  I  love  the  fragrance  and  taste.  You  don't  peel  so 
easy  as  the  willow,  but  I  like  to  prepare  you  better, 
because  you  will  make  some  miserable  little  sick  child  well 
or  you  may  cool  some  one's  fevered  blood.     If  ever  she 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  41 

has  a  fever,  I  hope  she  will  take  medicine  made  from  my 
bark,  because  it  will  be  strong  and  pure.  I've  half  a 
notion  to  set  some  one  else  gathering  the  stuff  and  tending 
the  plants  and  spend  my  time  in  the  little  laboratory 
compounding  different  combinations.  I  don't  see  what 
bigger  thing  a  man  can  do  than  to  combine  pure,  clean, 
unadulterated  roots  and  barks  into  medicines  that  will 
cool  fevers,  stop  chills,  and  purify  bad  blood.  The 
doctors  may  be  all  right,  but  what  are  they  going  to  do 
if  we  men  behind  the  prescription  cases  don't  supply  them 
with  unadulterated  drugs.  Answer  me  that,  Mr.  Sap- 
sucker.  Doc  says  I've  done  mighty  well  so  far  as  I 
have  gone.  I  can't  think  of  a  thing  on  earth  I'd  rather 
do,  and  there's  money  no  end  in  it.  I  could  get  too  rich 
for  comfort  in  short  order.  I  wouldn't  be  too  wealthy 
to  live  just  the  way  I  do  for  any  consideration.  I  don't 
know  about  her,  though.  She  is  lovely,  and  handsome 
women  usually  want  beautiful  clothing,  and  a  quantity 
of  things  that  cost  no  end  of  money.  I  may  need  all  I 
can  get,  for  her.     One  never  can  tell." 

He  arose  to  stir  the  sap  and  pour  more  from  the  barrels 
to  the  kettles  before  he  began  on  the  tag  alder  he  had 
gathered. 

"If  it  is  all  the  same  to  you,  I'll  just  keep  on  chewing 
spice  brush  while  I  work,"  he  muttered.  "You  are 
entirely  too  much  of  an  astringent  to  suit  my  taste  and 
you  bring  a  cent  less  a  pound.  But  you  are  thicker  and 
dry  heavier,  and  you  grow  in  any  quantity  around  the 
lake  and  on  the  marshy  places,  so  I'll  make  the  size  of 


42  THE  HARVESTER 

the  bundle  atone  for  the  price.  If  I  peel  you  while  I  wait 
on  the  sap  I'm  that  much  ahead.  I  can  spread  you  on 
drying  trays  in  a  few  seconds  and  there  you  are.  Howl 
your  head  off,  Bel,  I  don't  care  what  you  have  found.  I 
wouldn't  shoot  anything  to-day,  unless  the  cupboard  was 
bare  and  I  was  starvation  hungry.  •  In  that  case  I  think 
a  man  comes  first,  and  I'd  kill  a  squirrel  or  quail  in  season, 
but  blest  if  I'd  butcher  a  lot  or  do  it  often.  Vegetables 
and  bread  are  better  anyway.  You  peel  easier  even  than 
the  willow.  What  jolly  whistles  father  used  to  make! 
"There  was  about  twenty  cents'  worth  of  spice,  and 
I'll  easy  raise  it  to  a  dollar  on  this.  I'll  get  a  hundred 
gallons  of  syrup  in  the  coming  two  weeks  and  it  will 
bring  one  fifty  if  I  boil  and  strain  it  carefully  and  can 
guarantee  it  contains  no  hickory  bark  and  brown  sugar. 
And  it  won't!  Straight  for  me  or  not  at  all.  Pure  is 
the  word  at  Medicine  Woods;  syrup  or  drugs  it's  the  same 
thing.  Between  times  I  can  fell  every  tree  I'll  need  for 
the  new  cabin,  and  average  a  dollar  a  day  besides  on  spice, 
alder,  and  willow,  and  twice  that  for  sassafras  for  the 
Onabasha  markets;  not  to  mention  the  quantities  I 
can  dry  this  year.  Aside  from  spring  tea,  they  seem 
to  use  it  for  everything.  I  never  yet  have  had  enough. 
It  goes  into  half  the  tonics,  anodyne,  and  stimulants; 
also  soap  and  candy.  I  see  where  I  grow  rich  in  spite  of 
myself,  and  also  where  my  harvest  is  going  to  spoil 
before  I  can  garner  it,  if  I  don't  step  lively  and  double 
even  more  than  I  am  now.  Where  the  cabin  is  to  come 
in well  it  must  come  if  everything  else  goes. 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  43 

"The  roots  can  wait  and  I'll  dig  them  next  year  and 
get  more  and  larger  pieces.  I  won't  really  lose  anything, 
and  if  she  should  come  before  I  am  ready  to  start  to  find 
her,  why  then  I'll  have  her  home  prepared.  How  long 
before  you  begin  your  house,  old  fire-fly?"  he  inquired 
of  a  flaming  cardinal  tilting  on  a  twig. 

He  arose  to  make  the  round  of  the  sap  buckets  again, 
then  resumed  his  work  peeling  bark,  and  so  the  time 
passed.  In  the  following  ten  days  he  collected  and 
boiled  enough  sap  to  make  more  syrup  than  he  had 
expected.  His  earliest  spring  store  of  medicinal  twigs, 
that  were  peeled  to  dry  in  quills,  were  all  collected  and 
on  the  trays;  he  had  digged  several  wagon  loads  of  sas- 
safras and  felled  all  the  logs  of  stout,  slender  oak  he  would 
require  for  his  walls.  Choice  timber  he  had  been  curing 
for  candlestick  material  he  hauled  to  the  saw-mills  to 
have  cut  properly,  for  the  thought  of  trying  his  hand 
at  tables  and  chairs  had  taken  possession  of  him.  He 
was  sure  he  could  make  furniture  that  would  appear 
quite  as  well  as  the  mission  pieces  he  admired  on  display 
in  the  store  windows  of  the  city.  To  him,  chairs  and 
tables  made  from  trees  that  grew  on  land  that  had  be- 
longed for  three  generations  to  his  ancestors,  trees  among 
which  he  had  grown,  played,  and  worked,  trees  that 
were  so  much  his  friends  that  he  carefully  explained 
the  situation  to  them  before  using  an  ax  or  saw,  trees 
that  he  ha-d  cut,  cured,  and  fashioned  into  designs  of  his 
own,  would  make  vastly  more  valuable  furnishings  in  his 
home  than  anything  that  could  be  purchased  in  the  city. 


44  THE  HARVESTER 

As  he  drove  back  and  forth  he  watched  constantly 
for  her.  He  was  working  so  desperately,  planning  far 
ahead,  doubling  and  trebling  tasks,  trying  to  do  every- 
thing his  profession  demanded  in  season,  and  to  prepare 
timber  and  make  plans  for  the  new  cabin,  as  well  as  to 
start  a  pair  of  candlesticks  of  marvellous  design  for  her, 
that  night  was  one  long,  unbroken  sleep  of  the  thoroughly 
tired  man,  but  day  had  become  a  delightful  dream. 

He  fed  the  chickens  to  produce  eggs  for  her.  He 
gathered  barks  and  sluiced  roots  on  the  raft  in  the  lake, 
for  her.  He  grubbed  the  spice  thicket  before  the  door 
and  moved  it  into  the  woods  to  make  space  for  a  lawn, 
for  her.  His  eyes  were  wide  open  for  every  woven  case 
and  dangling  cocoon  of  the  big  night  moths  that  prop- 
agated around  him,  for  her.  Every  night  when  he  left 
the  woods  from  one  to  a  dozen  cocoons,  that  he  had  de- 
tected with  remarkable  ease  while  the  trees  were  bare, 
were  stuck  in  his  hat  band.  As  he  arranged  them  in  a 
cool,  dry  place  he  talked  to  them. 

"Of  course  I  know  you  are  valuable  and  there  are 
collectors  who  would  pay  well  for  you,  but  I  think  not. 
You  are  the  prettiest  thing  God  made  that  I  ever  saw, 
and  those  of  you  that  home  with  me  have  no  price  on 
your  wings.  You  are  much  safer  here  than  among  the 
crows  and  jays  of  the  woods.  I  am  gathering  you  to 
protect  you,  and  to  show  to  her.  If  I  don't  find  her  by 
June,  you  may  go  scot  free.  All  I  want  is  the  best  pat- 
tern I  can  get  from  some  of  you  for  candlestick  designs. 
Of  everything  in  the  whole  world  a  candlestick  should 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  45 

be  made  of  wood.  It  should  be  carved  by  hand,  and 
of  all  ornamentations  on  earth  the  moth  that  flies  to 
the  night  light  is  the  most  appropriate.  Owls  are  not 
so  bad.  They  are  of  the  night,  and  they  fly  to  light, 
too,  but  they  are  so  old.  Nobody  I  ever  have  known 
used  a  moth.  They  missed  the  best  when  they  neglected 
them.  I'll  make  her  sticks  over  an  original  pattern; 
I'll  twine  nightshade  vines,  with  flowers  and  berries 
around  them,  and  put  a  trailed  luna  on  one,  and  what 
is  the  next  prettiest  for  the  other?  I'll  think  well  before 
I  decide.  Maybe  she'll  come  by  the  time  I  get  to  carving 
and  tell  me  what  she  likes.  That  would  beat  my  taste 
or  guessing  a  mile." 

He  carefully  arranged  the  twigs  bearing  cocoons  in  a 
big,  wire-covered  box  to  protect  them  from  the  depre- 
dations of  nibbling  mice  and  the  bolder  attacks  of  the 
saucy  ground  squirrels  that  stored  nuts  in  his  loft  and 
took  possession  of  the  attic  until  their  scampering  some- 
times awoke  him  in  the  night. 

Every  trip  he  made  to  the  city  he  stopped  at  the 
library  to  examine  plans  of  buildings  and  furniture  and 
to  make  notes.  The  oak  he  had  hauled  was  being  hewed 
into  shape  by  a  neighbour  who  knew  how,  and  every 
wagon  that  carried  a  log  to  the  city  to  be  dressed  at 
the  mill  brought  back  timber  for  side  walls,  joists,  and 
rafters.  Night  after  night  he  sat  late  poring  over  his 
plans  for  the  new  rooms,  above  all  for  her  chamber. 
With  poised  pencil  he  wavered  over  where  to  put  the 
closet  and  entrance  to  her  bath.     He  figured  on  how  wide 


46  THE  HARVESTER 

to  make  her  bed  and  where  it  should  stand.  He  remem- 
bered her  dressing  table  in  placing  windows  and  a  space 
for  a  chest  of  drawers.  In  fact  there  was  nothing  the 
active  mind  of  the  Harvester  did  not  busy  itself  with 
in  those  days  that  might  make  a  woman  a  comfortable 
home.  Every  thought  emanated  from  impulses  evolved 
in  his  life  in  the  woods,  and  each  was  executed  with 
mighty  tenderness. 

A  killdeer  sweeping  the  lake  close  two  o'clock  one 
morning  awakened  him.  He  had  planned  to  close  the 
sugar  camp  for  the  season  that  day,  but  when  he  heard 
the  notes  of  the  loved  bird  he  wondered  if  that  would 
not  be  a  good  time  to  stake  out  the  foundations  and 
begin  digging.  There  was  yet  ice  in  the  ground,  but  the 
hillside  was  rapidly  thawing,  and  although  the  work 
would  be  easier  later,  so  eager  was  the  Harvester  to  have 
walls  up  and  a  roof  over  that  he  decided  to  commence. 

But  when  morning  came  and  he  and  Belshazzar  break- 
fasted and  fed  Betsy  and  the  stock,  he  concluded  to 
return  to  his  first  plan  and  close  the  camp.  All  the  sap 
collected  that  day  went  into  the  vinegar  barrel.  He 
loaded  the  kettles,  buckets,  and  spiles  and  stopped  at 
the  spice  thicket  to  cut  a  bale  of  twigs  as  he  passed.  He 
carried  one  load  to  the  wagon  and  returned  for  another. 
Down  wind  on  swift  wing  came  a  bird  and  entered  the 
bushes.  Motionless  the  Harvester  peered  at  it.  A 
mourning  dove  had  returned  to  him  through  snow, 
skifting  over  cold  earth.  It  settled  on  a  limb  and  began 
dressing  its  plumage.     At  that  instant  a  wavering,  "Coo 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  47 

coo  a'gh  coo,"  broke  in  sobbing  notes  from  the  deep 
wood.  Without  paying  the  slightest  heed,  the  dove 
finished  a  wing,  ruffled  and  settled  her  feathers,  and 
opened  her  bill  in  a  human-like  yawn.  The  Harvester 
smiled.  The  notes  swelled  closer  in  renewed  pleading. 
The  cry  was  beyond  doubt  a  courting  male  and  this 
an  indifferent  female.  Her  beady  eyes  snapped,  her 
head  turned  coquettishly,  a  picture  of  self-possession, 
she  hid  among  the  dense  twigs  of  the  spice  thicket. 
Around  the  outside  circled  the  pleading  male. 

With  shining  eyes  the  Harvester  watched.  These 
were  of  the  things  that  made  life  in  the  woods  most  worth 
while.  More  insistent  grew  the  wavering  notes  of  the 
lover.  More  indifferent  became  the  beloved.  She  was 
superb  in  her  poise  as  she  amused  herself  in  hiding.  A 
perfect  burst  of  confused,  sobbing  notes  broke  on  the 
air.  Then  away  in  the  deep  wood  a  softly-wavering, 
half-questioning  "Coo-ah!"  answered  them.  Amaze- 
ment flashed  into  the  eyes  of  the  Harvester,  but  his  face 
was  not  nearly  so  expressive  as  that  of  the  bird.  She 
lifted  a  bewildered  head  and  grew  rigid  in  an  attitude  of 
tense  listening.  There  was  a  pause.  In  quicker  measure 
and  crowding  notes  the  male  called  again.  Instantly 
the  soft  "Coo!"  wavered  in  answer.  The  surprised 
little  hen  bird  of  the  thicket  hopped  straight  up  and 
settled  on  her  perch  again,  her  dark  eyes  indignant  as 
she  uttered  a  short  "Coo!"  The  muscles  of  the  Har- 
vester's chest  were  beginning  to  twitch  and  quiver. 
More  intense  grew  the  notes  of  the  pleading  male.     Softly 


48  THE  HARVESTER 

seductive  came  the  reply.  The  clapping  of  his  wings 
could  be  heard  as  he  flew  in  search  of  the  charmer.  "  A'gh 
coo!"  cried  the  deserted  female  as  she  tilted  off  the  branch 
and  tore  through  the  thicket  in  pursuit,  with  wings  has- 
tened by  fright  at  the  ringing  laugh  of  the  Harvester. 

"Not  so  indifferent  after  all,  Bel,"  he  said  to  the  dog 
standing  in  stiff  point  beside  him.  "That  was  all  'pre- 
tend!' But  she  waited  just  a  trifle  too  long.  Now  she 
will  have  to  fight  it  out  with  a  rival.  Good  thing  if 
some  of  the  flirtatious  women  could  have  seen  that. 
Help  them  to  learn  their  own  minds  sooner." 

He  laughed  as  he  heaped  the  twigs  on  top  of  the  wagon 
and  started  down  the  hill  chuckling.   Belshazzar  followed, 
leading  Betsy  straight  in  the  middle  of  the  road  by  the 
hitching  strap.     A  few  yards   ahead   the  man   stopped 
suddenly  with  lifted  hand.     The  dog  and  horse  stood 
motionless.     A  dove  flashed  across  the  road  and  settled 
in    sight    on    a    limb.     Almost    simultaneously    another 
perched  beside  it,  and  they  locked  bills  in  a  long  caress, 
utterly  heedless  of  a  plaintive  "Coo"  in  the  deep  wood. 
"Settled!"  said  the  Harvester.     "Jupiter!  I  wish  my 
troubles  were  that  nearly  finished!     Wish  I  knew  where 
she  is  and  how  to  find  my  way  to  her  lips!     Wonder  if 
she  will  come  when  I  call  her.     What  if  I  should  find  her, 
and  she  would  have  everything  on  earth,  other  lovers, 
and    indifference    worse   than   Madam   Dove's   for   me. 
Talk  about  bitterness!      Well  I'd  have  the  dream  left 
anyway.     And    there    are    always    two   sides.     There   is 
just  a  possibility  that  she  may  be  poor  and  overworked, 


HARVESTING  THE   FOREST  49 

sick  and  tired,  and  wondering  why  I  don't  come.  Pos- 
sibly she  had  a  dream,  too,  and  she  wishes  I  would  hurry. 
Dear  Lord !" 

The  Harvester  began  to  perspire  as  he  strode  down 
the  hill.     He  scarcely  waited  to  hang  the  harness  prop- 
erly.    He  did  not  stop  to  unload  the  wagon  until  night, 
but  went  after  an  ax  and  a  board  that  he  split  into  pegs. 
Then  he  took  a  ball  of  twine,   a  measuring  line,   and 
began  laying  out  his  foundation,  when  the  hard  earth 
would  scarcely  hold  the  stakes  he  drove  into  it.     When 
he  found  he  only  would  waste  time  in  digging  he  put 
away  the  neatly  washed  kettles,  peeled  the  spice  brush, 
spread  it  to  dry,  and  prepared  his  dinner.     After  that 
he  began  hauling  stone   and  cement  for  his  basement 
floor  and  foundation  walls.     Occasionally  he  helped  at 
hewing  logs  when  the  old  man  paused  to  rest.     That  after- 
noon the  first  robin  of  the  season  hailed  him  in  passing. 
"Hello!"    cried    the    Harvester.     "You    don't    mean 
to  tell  me  that  you  have  beaten  the  larks!     You  really 
have!     Well  since  I  see  it,  I  must  believe,  but  you  are 
early.     Come  around  to  the  back  door  if  crumbs  or  wheat 
will  do  or  if  you  can  make  out  on  suet  and  meat  bones! 
We  are  good  and  ready  for  you.     Where  is  your  mate? 
For  any  sake,  don't  tell  me  you  don't  know.     One  case 
of  that  kind  at  Medicine  Woods  is  enough.     Say  you 
came  ahead  to  see  if  it  is  too  cold  or  to  select  a  home  and 
get  ready  for  her.     Say  anything  on  earth  except  that 
you  love  her,  and  want  her  until  your  body  is  one  quiver- 
ing ache,  and  you  don't  know  where  she  is." 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  Commission  for  the  South  Wind 

THE  next  morning  the  larks  trailed  ecstasy  all 
over  the  valley,  the  following  day  cuckoos  were 
calling  in  the  thickets,  a  warm  wind  swept 
from  the  south  and  set  swollen  buds  bursting,  while 
the  sun  shone,  causing  the  Harvester  to  rejoice.  Betsy's 
white  coat  was  splashed  with  the  mud  of  the  valley  road; 
the  feet  of  Belshazzar  left  tracks  over  lumber  piles; 
and  the  Harvester  removed  his  muck-covered  shoes  at 
the  door  and  wore  slippers  inside.  The  skunk  cabbage 
appeared  around  the  edge  of  the  forest,  rank  mullein  and 
thistles  lay  over  the  fields  in  big  circles  of  green,  and 
even  plants  of  delicate  growth  were  thrusting  their 
heads  through  mellowing  earth  and  dead  leaves,  to  reach 
light  and  air. 

Then  the  Harvester  took  his  mattock  and  began  to 
dig.  His  level  best  fell  so  far  short  of  what  he  felt  capable 
of  doing  and  desired  to  accomplish  that  the  following  day 
he  put  two  more  men  on  the  job.  Then  the  earth  did 
fly,  and  so  soon  as  the  required  space  was  excavated  the 
walls  were  lined  with  stone  and  a  smooth  basement 
floor  was  made  of  cement.    The  night  the  new  home  stood, 

so 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  51 

a  skeleton  of  joists  and  rafters,  gleaming  whitely  on  the 
banks  of  Loon  Lake,  the  Harvester  went  to  the  bridge 
crossing  Singing  Water  and  slowly  came  up  the  driveway 
to  see  how  the  work  appeared.  He  caught  his  breath 
as  he  advanced.  He  had  intended  to  stake  out  generous 
rooms,  but  this,  compared  with  the  cabin,  seemed  like 

a  big  hotel. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  made  it  so  large  it  will  be  a  burden, " 
he  soliloquized.  "It's  huge!  But  while  I  am  at  it  I 
want  to  build  big  enough,  and  I  think  I  have. " 

He  stood  on  the  driveway,  his  arms  folded,  and  looked 
at  the  structure  as  he  occasionally  voiced  his  thoughts. 

"The  next  thing  is  to  lay  up  the  side  walls  and  get 
the  roof  over.  Got  to  have  plenty  of  help,  for  those 
logs  are  hewed  to  fourteen  inches  square  and  some  of 
them  are  forty  feet  long.  That's  timber!  Grew  with 
me,  too.  Personally  acquainted  with  almost  every 
tree  of  it*  We  will  bed  them  in  cement,  use  care  with 
the  roof,  and  if  that  doesn't  make  a  cool  house  in  the 
summer,  and  a  warm  one  in  winter,  I'll  be  disappointed. 
It  sets  among  the  trees,  and  on  the  hillside  just  right. 
We  must  have  a  wide  porch,  plenty  of  flowers,  vines, 
ferns,  and  mosses,  and  when  I  get  everything  finished 

and  she  sees  it perhaps  it  will  please  her." 

A    great    horned    owl    swept    down    the    hill,    crossed 

the   lake,   and   hooted   from   the  forest  of  the  opposite 

bank.     The  Harvester  thought  of  his  dream  and  turned. 

"Any  women  walking  the  water  to-night?     Come  if 

you  like,"  he  bantered,  "I  don't  mind  in  the  least.     In 


52  THE  HARVESTER 

fact,  I'd  rather  enjoy  it.  I'd  be  so  happy  if  you  would 
come  now  and  tell  me  how  this  appears  to  you,  for  it's 
all  yours.  I'd  have  enlarged  the  store-room,  dry-houses 
and  laboratory  for  myself,  but  this  cabin,  never!     The 

old  one  suited  me  as  it  was;  but  for  you I  should  have 

a  better  home. " 

The  Harvester  glanced  from  the  shining  skeleton  to 
the  bridge  of  gold  and  back  again. 

" Where  are  you  to-night?"  he  questioned.  "What 
are  you  doing?  Can't  you  give  me  a  hint  of  where  to 
search  for  you  when  this  is  ready?  I  don't  know  but  I 
am  beginning  wrong.  My  little  brothers  of  the  wood 
do  differently.  They  announce  their  intentions  the 
first  thing,  flaunt  their  attractions,  and  display  their 
strength.  They  say  aloud,  for  all  the  listening  world  to 
hear,  what  is  in  their  hearts.  They  chip,  chirp,  and  sing, 
warble,  whistle,  thrill,  scream,  and  hoot  it.  They  are 
strong  on  self-expression,  and  appreciative  of  their  ap- 
pearance. They  meet,  court,  mate,  and  then  build  their 
home  together  after  a  mutual  plan.  It's  a  good  way, 
too!     Lots  surer  of  getting  things  satisfactory." 

The  Harvester  sat  on  a  lumber  pile  and  gazed  ques- 
tioningly  at  the  framework. 

"I  wish  I  knew  if  I  am  going  at  things  right,"  he  said. 
"  There  are  two  sides  to  consider.  If  she  is  in  a  good 
home,  and  lovingly  cared  for,  it  would  be  proper  to  court 

her  and  get  her  promise,  if  I  could no  I'm  blest  if  I'll 

be  so  modest get  her  promise,  as  I  said,  and  let  her 

wait  while  I  build  the  cabin.     But  if  she  should  be  poor, 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  53 

tired,  and  neglected,  then  I  ought  to  have  this  ready  when 
I  find  her,  so  I  could  pick  her  up  and  bring  her  to  it, 
with  no  more  ceremony  than  the  birds." 

The  Harvester's  clear  skin  flushed  crimson. 

"Of  course,  I  don't  mean  no  wedding  ceremony," 
he  amended.  "I  was  thinking  of  a  long  time  wasted  in 
preliminaries  when  in  my  soul  I  know  I  am  going  to  marry 
my  Dream  Girl  before  I  ever  have  seen  her  in  reality. 
What  would  be  the  use  in  spending  much  time  in  court- 
ing? She  is  my  wife  now,  by  every  law  of  God.  Let 
me  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  and  I'll  prove  it.  But  I've  got 
to  make  tracks,  for  if  she  were  here,  where  would  I  put 
her?     I  must  hurry!" 

He  went  to  the  work  room  and  began  polishing  a  table 
top.  He  had  bought  a  chest  of  tools  and  was  spending 
every  spare  minute  on  tables,  chair  seats,  and  legs. 
He  had  decided  to  make  these  first  and  carve  candle- 
sticks later  when  he  had  more  time.  Two  hours  he 
worked  at  the  furniture,  and  then  went  to  bed.  The 
following  morning  he  put  eggs  under  several  hens  that 
wanted  to  set,  trimmed  his  grape-vines,  examined  the 
precious  ginseng  beds,  attended  his  stock,  got  breakfast 
for  Belshazzar  and  himself,  and  was  ready  for  work  when 
the  first  carpenter  arrived.  Laying  hewed  logs  went 
speedily,  and  before  the  Harvester  believed  it  possible 
the  big  shingles  he  had  ordered  were  being  nailed  on  the 
roof.  Then  came  the  plumber  and  arranged  for  the 
bathroom,  and  the  furnace  man  placed  the  heating  pipes. 
The  Harvester  had  intended  the  cabin  to  be  mostly  the 


54  THE  HARVESTER 

work  of  his  own  hands,  but  when  he  saw  how  rapidly 
skilled  carpenters  worked,  he  changed  his  mind  and 
had  them  finish  the  living-room,  his  room,  and  the  up- 
stairs, and  make  over  the  dining-room  and  kitchen. 

Her  room  he  worked  on  alone,  with  a  little  help  if 
he  did  not  know  how  to  join  the  different  parts.  Every- 
thing was  plain  and  simple,  after  plans  of  his  own,  but 
the  Harvester  laid  floors  and  made  window  casings, 
seats,  and  doors  of  wood  that  the  big  factories  of  Grand 
Rapids  used  in  veneering  their  finest  furniture.  When 
one  of  his  carpenters  pointed  out  this  to  him,  and 
suggested  that  he  sell  his  lumber  to  McLean  and  use 
pine  flooring  from  the  mills  the  Harvester  laughed 
at  him. 

"I  don't  say  that  I  could  afford  to  buy  burl  maple, 
walnut,  and  cherry  for  wood-work, "  said  the  Harvester. 
"I  could  not,  but  since  I  have  it,  you  can  stake  your  life 
I  won't  sell  it  and  build  my  home  of  cheap,  rapidly  de- 
caying wood.  The  best  I  have  goes  into  this  cabin 
and  what  remains  will  do  to  sell.  I  have  an  idea  that  when 
this  is  done  it  is  going  to  appear  first  rate.  Anyway,  it 
will  be  solid  enough  to  last  a  thousand  years,  and  with 
every  day  of  use  natural  wood  grows  more  beautiful. 
When  we  get  some  tables,  couches,  and  chairs  made 
from  the  same  timber  as  the  casings  and  the  floors,  I 
think  it  will  be  fine.  I  want  money,  but  I  don't  want  it 
bad  enough  to  part  with  the  best  of  anything  I  have  for 
it.  Go  carefully  and  neatly  there;  it  will  have  to  be 
changed  if  you  don't." 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  55 

So  the  work  progressed  rapidly.  When  the  carpen- 
ters had  finished  the  last  stroke  on  the  big  veranda 
they  remained  a  day  more  and  made  flower  boxes,  and  a 
swinging  couch,  and  then  the  greedy  Harvester  kept 
the  best  man  with  him  a  week  longer  to  help  on  the 
furniture. 

"Ain't  you  going  to  say  a  word  about  her,  Langston?" 
asked  this  man  as  they  put  a  mirror-like  surface  on  a 
curly  maple  dressing  table  top. 

"Her!"  ejaculated  the  Harvester.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"I  haven't  seen  you  bathe  anywhere  except  in  the 
lake  since  I  have  been  here,"  said  the  carpenter.  "Do 
you  want  me  to  think  that  a  porcelain  tub,  this  big 
closet,  and  chest  of  drawers  are  for  you?" 

A  wave  of  crimson  swept  over  the  Harvester. 

"No,  they  are  not  for  me,"  he  said  simply.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  any  more  different  from  other  men  than  I 
can  help,  although  I  know  that  life  in  the  woods,  the 
rigid  training  of  my  mother,  and  the  reading  of  only 
the  books  that  would  aid  in  my  work  have  made  me  indi- 
vidual in  many  of  my  thoughts  and  ways.  I  suppose 
most  men,  just  now,  would  tell  you  anything  you  want 
to  know.  There  is  only  one  thing  I  can  say:  The 
best  of  my  soul  and  brain,  the  best  of  my  woods  and 
store-house,  the  best  I  can  buy  with  money  is  not  good 
enough  for  her.  That's  all.  For  myself,  I  am  getting 
ready  to  marry,  of  course.  I  think  all  normal  men  do 
and  that  it  is  a  matter  of  plain  common-sense  that  they 


56  THE  HARVESTER 

should.  Life  with  the  right  woman  must  be  infinitely 
broader  and  better  than  alone.     Are  you  married?" 

"Yes.     Got  a  wife  and  four  children." 

"Are  you  sorry?" 

"Sorry!"  the  carpenter  shrilled  the  word.  "Sorry! 
Well  that's  the  best  I  ever  heard!  Am  I  sorry  I  married 
Nell  and  got  the  kids?     Do  I  look  sorry?" 

"I  am  not  expecting  to  be,  either,"  said  the  Harvester 
calmly.  "I  think  I  have  done  fairly  well  to  stick  to  my 
work  and  live  alone  until  I  am  twenty-six.  I  have 
thought  the  thing  all  over  and  made  up  my  mind.  As 
soon  as  I  get  this  house  far  enough  along  that  I  feel  I  can 
proceed  alone  I  am  going  to  rush  the  marrying  business 
just  as  fast  as  I  can,  and  let  her  finish  the  remainder  to 
her  liking." 

"Well  this  ought  to  please  her." 

"That's  because  you  find  your  own  work  good," 
laughed  the  Harvester. 

"Not  altogether!"  The  carpenter  polished  the  board 
and  stood  it  on  end  to  examine  the  surface  as  he  talked. 
"Not  altogether!  Nothing  but  good  work  would  suit 
you.  I  was  thinking  of  the  little  creek  splashing  down 
the  hill  to  the  lake;  and  that  old  log  hewer  said  that  in 
a  few  more  days  things  here  would  be  a  blaze  of  colour 
until  fall." 

"Almost  all  the  drug  plants  and  bushes  leaf  beauti- 
fully and  flower  brilliantly,"  explained  the  Harvester. 
"I  studied  the  location  suitable  to  each  variety  before  I 
set  the  beds  and  planned  how  to  grow  plants  for  contin- 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  57 

uity  of  bloom,  and  as  much  harmony  of  colour  as  possible. 
Of  course  a  landscape  gardener  would  tear  up  some  of 
it,  but  seen  as  a  whole  it  isn't  so  bad.  Did  you  ever 
notice  that  in  the  open,  with  God's  blue  overhead  and 
His  green  for  a  background,  He  can  place  purple  and 
yellow,  pink,  magenta,  red,  and  blue  in  masses  or  any 
combination  you  can  mention  and  the  brighter  the  colour 
the  more  you  like  it?  You  don't  seem  to  see  or  feel  that 
any  grouping  clashes;  you  revel  in  each  wonderful 
growth,  and  luxuriate  in  the  brilliancy  of  the  whole. 
Anyway,  this  suits  me." 

"I  guess  it  will  please  her,  too,"  said  the  carpenter. 
"After  all  the  pains  you've  taken,  she  is  a  good  one  if 
it  doesn't." 

"I'll  always  have  the  consolation  of  having  done  my 
best,"  replied  the  Harvester.  "One  can't  do  more! 
Whether  she  likes  it  or  not  depends  greatly  on  the  way 
she  has  been  reared." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  didn't  know,"  commented  the 
carpenter. 

"You  go  on  with  this  now, "  said  the  Harvester  hastily. 
"I've  got  to  uncover  some  beds  and  dig  my  year's  supply 
of  skunk  cabbage,  else  folk  with  asthma  and  dropsy  who 
depend  on  me  will  be  short  on  relief.  I  ought  to  take 
my  sweet  flag,  too,  but  I'm  so  hurried  now  I  think  I'll 
leave  it  until  fall;  I  do  when  I  can,  because  the  bloom 
is  so  pretty  around  the  lake  and  the  bees  simply  go  wild 
over  the  pollen.  Sometimes  I  almost  think  I  can  detect 
it  in  their  honey.     Do  you  know  I've  wondered  often 


58  THE  HARVESTER 

if  the  honey  my  bees  make  has  medicinal  properties 
and  should  be  kept  separate  in  different  seasons.  In 
early  spring  when  the  plants  and  bushes  that  furnish 
the  roots  and  barks  of  most  of  the  tonics  are  in  bloom, 
and  the  bees  gather  the  pollen,  that  honey  should  partake 
in  a  degree  of  the  same  properties  and  be  good  medicine. 
In  the  summer  it  should  aid  digestion,  and  in  the  fall 
cure  rheumatism  and  blood  disorders." 

uSay  you  try  it!"  urged  the  carpenter.  "I  want  a 
lot  of  the  fall  kind.  I'm  always  full  of  rheumatism  by 
October.     Exposure,  no  doubt." 

"Over  eating  of  too  much  rich  food,  you  mean," 
laughed  the  Harvester.  "I'd  like  to  see  any  man  expose 
his  body  to  more  differing  extremes  of  weather  than  I  do, 
and  I'm  never  sick.  It's  because  I  am  my  own  cook 
and  so  I  live  mostly  on  fruits,  vegetables,  bread,  milk, 
and  eggs,  a  few  fish  from  the  lake,  a  little  game  once  in 
a  great  while  or  a  chicken,  and  no  hot  drinks;  plenty  of 
fresh  water,  air,  and  continuous  work  out  of  doors.  That's 
the  prescription!  I'd  be  ashamed  to  have  rheumatism 
at  your  age.  There's  food  in  the  cupboard  if  you  grow 
hungry.  I  am  going  past  one  of  the  neighbours  on  my 
way  to  see  about  some  work  I  want  her  to  do." 

The  Harvester  stopped  for  lunch,  carried  food  to 
Belshazzar,  and  started  straight  across  country,  his 
mattock,  with  a  bag  rolled  around  the  handle,  on  his 
shoulder.  His  feet  sank  in  the  damp  earth  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  and  he  laughed  as  he  leaped  across  Singing 
Water. 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  59 

"You  noisy  chatterbox!"  cried  the  man.  "The 
impetus  of  coming  down  the  curves  of  the  hill  keeps  you 
talking  all  the  way  across  this  muck  bed  to  the  lake. 
With  small  work  I  can  make  you  a  thing  of  beauty. 
A  few  bushes  grubbed,  a  little  deepening  where  you 
spread  too  much,  and  some  more  mallows  along  the 
banks  will  do  the  trick.     I  must  attend  to  you  soon." 

"Now  what  does  the  boy  want?"  laughed  a  white- 
haired  old  woman,  as  the  Harvester  entered  the  door. 
"Mebby  you  think  I  don't  know  what  you're  up  to! 
I  even  can  hear  the  hammering  and  the  voices  of  the  men 
when  the  wind  is  in  the  south.  I've  been  wondering 
how  soon  you'd  need  me.     Out  with  it!" 

"I  want  you  to  get  a  woman  and  come  over  and  spend 
a  day  with  me.  I'll  come  after  you  and  bring  you  back. 
I  want  you  to  go  over  mother's  bedding  and  have  what 
needs  it  washed.  All  I  want  you  to  do  is  to  superintend, 
and  tell  me  now  what  I  will  want  from  town  for  your 
work." 

"I  put  away  all  your  mother's  bedding  that  you  were 
not  using,  clean  as  a  ribbon." 

"But  it  has  been  packed  in  moth  preventives  ever 
since  and  out  only  four  times  a  year  to  air,  as  you  told 
me.  It  must  smell  musty  and  be  yellow.  I  want 
it  fresh  and  clean." 

"So  what  I  been  hearing  is  true,  David?" 

"Quite  true!"     said  the  Harvester. 

"Whose  girl  is  she,  and  when  are  you  going  to  jine 
hands?" 


60  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  lifted  his  clear  eyes  and  hesitated. 

"Doc  Carey  laid  you  in  my  arms  when  you  was  born, 
David.  I  tended  you  'fore  ever  your  ma  did.  All 
your  life  you've  been  my  boy,  and  I  love  you  same  as  my 
own  blood;  it  won't  go  no  farther  if  you  say  so.  I'll 
never  tell  a  living  soul.  But  I'm  old  and  'til  better 
weather  comes,  house  bound;  and  I  get  mighty  lonely. 
I'd  like  to  think  about  you  and  her,  and  plan  for  you, 
and  love  her  as  I  always  did  you  folks.  Who  is  she, 
David?     Do  I  know  the  family?" 

"No.  She  is  a  stranger  to  these  parts,"  said  the  un- 
happy Harvester. 

"David,  is  she  a  nice  girl  'at  your  ma  would  have 
liked?" 

"She's  the  only  girl  in  the  world  that  I'd  marry,"  said 
the  Harvester  promptly,  glad  of  a  question  he  could 
answer    heartily.     "Yes.     She    is    gentle,    very    tender 

and and  affectionate,"  he  went  on  so  rapidly  that 

Granny  Moreland  could  not  say  a  word,  "and  as  soon 
as  I  bring  her  home  you  shall  come  to  spend  a  day  and 
get  acquainted.  I  know  you  will  love  her!  I'll  come 
in  the  morning,  then.  I  must  hurry  now.  I  am  working 
double  this  spring  and  I'm  off  for  the  skunk  cabbage 
bed  to-day." 

"You  are  working  fit  to  kill,  the  neighbours  say. 
Slavin'  like  a  horse  all  day,  and  half  the  night  I  see  your 
lights  burning." 

"Do  I  appear  killed?"  laughingly  inquired  the  Har- 
vester. 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  61 

"You  look  peart  as  a  strut-tin'  turkey  gobbler,"  said 
the  old  woman.  "Go  on  with  your  work!  Work  don't 
hurt  a-body.  Eat  a-plenty,  sleep  all  you  ort,  and  you 
can't  work  enough  to  hurt  you." 

"So  the  neighbours  say  I'm  working  now?  New 
story,  isn't  it?  Usually  I'm  too  lazy  to  make  a  living, 
if  I  remember." 

"Only  to  those  who  don't  sense  your  purceedings, 
David.  I  always  knowed  how  you  grubbed  and  slaved 
an'  set  over  them  fearful  books  o'  yours. " 

"More  interesting  than  the  wildest  fiction,"  said  the 
man.  "I'm  making  some  medicine  for  your  rheumatism, 
Granny.  It  is  not  fully  tested  yet,  but  you  get  ready 
for  it  by  cutting  out  all  the  salt  you  can.  I  haven't 
time  to  explain  this  morning,  but  you  remember  what  I 
say,  leave  out  the  salt,  and  when  Doc  thinks  it's  safe 
I'll  bring  you  something  that  will  make  a  new  woman 
of  you." 

He  went  swinging  down  the  road,  and  Granny  More- 
land  looked  after  him. 

"While  he  was  talkin',"  she  muttered,  "I  felt  full  of 
information  as  a  flock  o'  almanacs,  but  now  since  he's 
gone,  'pears  to  me  I  don't  know  a  thing  more  'an  I  did 
to  start  on." 

"Close  call,"  the  Harvester  was  thinking.  "Why 
the  nation  did  I  admit  anything  to  her?  People  may 
talk  as  they  please,  so  long  as  I  don't  sanction  it,  but  I 
have  two  or  three  times.  That's  a  fool  trick.  Suppose 
I  can't  find  her?     Maybe  she  won't  look  at  me  if  I  can. 


62  THE  HARVESTER 

Then  I'd  have  started  something  I  couldn't  finish. 
And  if  anybody  thinks  I'll  end  this  by  taking  any  girl  I 
can  get,  if  I  can't  find-  Her,  why  they  think  wrongly. 
Just  the  girl  of  my  golden  dream  or  no  woman  at  all 
for  me.  I've  lived  alone  long  enough  to  know  how  to  do 
it  in  comfort.  If  I  can't  find  and  win  her  I  have  no 
intention  of  starting  a  boarding  house." 

The  Harvester  began  to  laugh.  "Td  rather  keep 
bachelor's  hall  in  Hell  than  go  to  board  in  Heaven!'" 
he  quoted  gaily.  "That's  my  sentiment  too.  If  you 
can't  have  what  you  want,  don't  have  anything.  But 
there  is  no  use  to  become  discouraged  before  I  start. 
I  haven't  begun  to  hunt  her  yet.  Until  I  do,  I  might  as 
well  believe  that  she  will  walk  across  the  bridge  and  take 
possession  just  as  soon  as  I  get  the  last  chair  leg  polished. 
She  might!  She  came  in  the  dream,  and  to  come  actu- 
ally couldn't  be  any  more  real.  I'll  make  a  stiff  hunt  of 
it  before  I  give  up,  if  I  ever  do.  I  never  yet  have  made  a 
complete  failure  of  anything.  But  just  now  I  am  hunting 
skunk  cabbage.     It's  precisely  the  time  to  take  it." 

Across  the  lake,  in  the  swampy  woods,  close  where  the 
screech  owl  sang  and  the  girl  of  the  golden  dream  walked 
in  the  moonight  the  Harvester  began  operations.  He 
unrolled  the  sack,  went  to  one  end  of  the  bed  and  sys- 
tematically started  a  swath  across  it,  lifting  every  other 
plant  by  the  roots.  Flowering  time  was  almost  past, 
but  the  bees  knew  where  pollen  ripened,  and  hummed 
incessantly  over  and  inside  the  queer  cone-shaped  growths 
with  their  hooked  beaks.     It  almost  appeared  as  if  the 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  63 

sound  made  inside  might  be  to  give  outsiders  warning 
not  to  poach  on  occupied  territory,  for  the  Harvester 
noticed  that  no  bee  entered  a  pre-empted  plant. 

With  skilful  hand  each  stroke  brought  up  a  root  and 
he  tossed  it  to  one  side.  The  plants  were  vastly  peculiar 
things.  First  they  seemed  to  be  a  curled  leaf  with  no 
flower.  In  colour  they  shaded  from  yellow  to  almost 
black  mahogany,  and  appeared  as  if  they  were  a  flower 
with  no  leaf.  Closer  examination  proved  there  was  a 
stout  leaf  with  a  heavy  outside  mid-rib,  the  tip  of  which 
curled  over  in  a  beak  effect,  that  wrapped  around  a 
peculiar  flower  of  very  disagreeable  odour.  The  hand- 
ling of  these  plants  by  the  hundred  so  intensified  this 
smell  the  Harvester  shook  his  head. 

"I  presume  you  are  mostly  mine,"  he  said  to  the  busy 
little  workers  around  him.  "If  there  is  anything  in  my 
theory  of  honey  having  varying  medicinal  properties 
at  different  seasons,  right  now  mine  should  be  good  for 
Granny's  rheumatism  and  for  nervous  and  dropsical 
people.  I  shouldn't  think  honey  flavoured  with  skunk 
cabbage  would  be  fit  to  eat.  But,  of  course,  it  isn't  all 
this.  There  is  catkin  pollen  on  the  wind,  hazel  and  sas- 
safras are  both  in  bloom  now,  and  so  are  several  of  the 
earliest  little  flowers  of  the  woods.  You  can  gather 
enough  of  them  combined  to  temper  the  disagreeable 
odour  into  a  racy  sweetness,  and  all  the  shrub  blooms  are 
good  tonics,  too,  and  some  of  the  earthy  ones.  I'm 
going  to  try  giving  some  of  you  empty  cases  next  spring 
and  analyzing  the  honey  to  learn  if  it  isn't  good  medicine. " 


64  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  straightened  and  leaned  on  the  mattock 
to  fill  his  lungs  with  fresh  air  and  as  he  delightedly  sniffed 
it  he  commented,  "Nothing  else  has  much  of  a  chance 
since  I've  stirred  up  the  cabbage  bed.  I  can  scent  the 
catkins  plainly,  being  so  close,  and  as  I  came  here  I 
could  detect  the  hazel  and  sassafras  all  right." 

Above  him  a  peculiar,  raucous  chattering  for  an  in- 
stant hushed  other  wood  voices.  The  Harvester  looked 
up,  laughing  gaily. 

"So  you've  decided  to  announce  it  to  your  tribe  at 
last,  have  you?"  he  inquired.  "You  are  waking  the 
sleepers  in  their  dens  to-day?  Well,  there's  nothing  like 
waiting  until  you  have  a  sure  thing.  The  bluebirds 
broke  the  trail  for  the  feathered  folk  the  twenty-fourth 
of  February.  The  sap  oozed  from  the  maples  about 
the  same  time  for  the  trees.  The  very  first  skunk  cab- 
bage was  up  quite  a  month  ago  to  signal  other  plants  to 
come  on,  and  now  you  are  rousing  the  furred  folk.  I'll 
write  this  down  in  my  records 'When  the  earliest  blue- 
bird sings,  when  the  sap  wets  the  maples,  when  the 
skunk  cabbage  flowers,  and  the  first  striped  squirrel 
barks,  why  then,  it  is  spring!'" 

He  bent  to  his  task  and  as  he  worked  closer  the  water 
he  noticed  sweet-flag  leaves  waving  two  inches  tall  be- 
neath the  surface. 

"Great  day!"  he  cried.  "There  you  are  making  signs, 
too!  And  right!  Of  course!  Nature  is  always  right. 
Just  two  inches  high  and  it's  harvest  for  you.  I  can 
use  a  rake,  and  dried  in  the  evaporator  you  bring  me  ten 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  65 

cents  a  pound;  to  the  folks  needing  a  tonic  you  are  worth 
a  small  fortune.  No  doubt  you  cost  that  by  the  time 
you  reach  them;  but  I  fear  I  can't  gather  you  just  now. 
My  head  is  a  little  preoccupied  these  days.  What 
with  the  cabbage,  and  now  you,  and  many  of  the  bushes 
and  trees  making  signs,  with  a  new  cabin  to  build  and 
furnish,  with  a  girl  to  find  and  win,  I'm  what  you  might 
call  busy.  I've  covered  my  book  shelf.  I  positively 
don't  dare  look  Emerson  or  Maeterlinck  in  the  face. 
One  consolation!  I've  got  the  best  of  Thoreau  in  my 
head,  and  if  I  read  Stickeen  a  few  times  more  I'll  be  able 
to  recite  that.  There's  a  man  for  you,  not  to  mention 
the  dog!  Bel,  where  are  you?  Would  you  stick  to  me 
like  that?  I  think  you  would.  But  you  are  a  big, 
strong  fellow.  Stickeen  was  only  such  a  mite  of  a  dog. 
But  what  a  man  he  followed!  I  feel  as  if  I  should  put 
on  high-heeled  slippers  and  carry  a  fan  and  a  lace  hand- 
kerchief when  I  think  of  him.  And  yet,  most  men 
wouldn't  consider  my  job  so  easy!" 

The  Harvester  rapidly  pitched  the  evil-smelling  plants 
into  big  heaps  and  as  he  worked  he  imitated  the  sounds 
around  him  as  closely  as  he  could.  The  song  sparrow 
laughed  at  him  and  flew  away  in  disgust  when  he  tried 
its  notes.  The  jay  took  time  to  consider,  but  was  not 
fooled.  The  nut-hatch  ran  head  first  down  trees,  larvae 
hunting,  and  was  never  a  mite  deceived.  But  the  kill- 
deer  on  invisible  legs,  circling  the  lake  shore,  replied 
instantly;  so  did  the  lark  soaring  above,  and  the  dove 
of  the  elm  thicket  close  beside.     The  glittering  black- 


66  THE  HARVESTER 

birds  flashing  over  every  tree  top  answered  the  "T'check, 
t'chee!"  of  the  Harvester  quite  as  readily  as  their  mates. 
The  last  time  he  paused  to  rest  he  had  studied  scents. 
When  he  straightened  again  he  was  occupied  with  every 
voice  of  earth  and  air  around  and  above  him,  and  the 
notes  of  singing  hens,  exultant  cocks,  the  scream  of 
geese,  the  quack  of  ducks,  the  rasping  crescendo  of 
guineas  running  wild  in  the  woods,  the  imperial  note  of 
Ajax  sunning  on  the  ridge  pole  and  echoes  from  all  of 
them  on  adjoining  and  distant  farms. 

"'Now  I  see  the  full  meaning  and  beauty  of  that 
word  sound! '"  quoted  the  Harvester.  "'I  thank  God 
for  sound.     It  always  mounts  and  makes  me  mount!" 

He  breathed  deeply  and  stood  listening,  a  superb 
figure  of  a  man,  his  lean  face  glowing  with  emotion. 

"If  she  could  see  and  hear  this,  she  would  come," 
he  said  softly.  "She  would  come  and  she  would  love 
it  as  I  do.  Any  one  who  understands,  and  knows  how  to 
translate,  cares  for  this  above  all  else  earth  has  to  offer. 
They  who  do  not,  fail  to  read  as  they  run!" 

He  shifted  feet  mired  in  swamp  muck,  and  stood  as 
if  loath  to  bend  again  to  his  task.  He  lifted  a  weighted 
mattock  and  scraped  the  earth  from  it,  sniffing  it  delight- 
edly the  while.  A  soft  south  wind  freighted  with  aro- 
matic odours  swept  his  warm  face.  The  Harvester 
removed  his  hat  and  shook  his  head  that  the  breeze 
might  thread  his  thick  hair. 

"I've  a  commission  for  you,  South  Wind,"  he  said 
whimsically.     "Go    find    my    Dream    Girl.     Go    carry 


A  COMMISSION  FOR  THE  SOUTH  WIND  67 

her  this  message  from  me.  Freight  your  breath  with 
spicy  pollen,  sun  warmth,  and  flower  nectar.  Fill  all 
her  senses  with  delight,  and  then,  close  to  her  ear,  whis- 
per it  softly,  '  Your  lover  is  coming!'  Tell  her  that,  O 
South  Wind!  Carry  Araby  to  her  nostrils,  Heaven  to 
her  ears,  and  then  whisper  and  whisper  it  over  and  over 
until  you  arouse  the  passion  of  earth  in  her  blood.  Tell 
her  what  is  rioting  in  my  heart,  and  brain,  and  soul  this 
morning.  Repeat  it  until  she  must  awake  to  its  meaning, 
1  Your  lover  is  coming.' " 


CHAPTER  V 
When  the  Harvester  Made  Good 

THE  sassafras  and  skunk  cabbage  were  harvested. 
The  last  workman  was  gone.  There  was  not  a 
sound  at  Medicine  Woods  save  the  babel  of  bird 
and  animal  notes  and  the  never-ending  accompaniment 
of  Singing  Water.  The  geese  had  gone  over,  some  flocks 
pausing  to  rest  and  feed  on  Loon  Lake,  and  ducks  that 
homed  there  were  busy  among  the  reeds  and  rushes.  In 
the  deep  woods  the  struggle  to  maintain  and  reproduce 
life  was  at  its  height,  and  the  courting  songs  of  gaily  col- 
oured birds  were  drowned  by  hawk  screams  and  crow 
calls  of  defiance. 

Every  night  before  he  plunged  into  the  lake  and  went 
to  sleep  the  Harvester  made  out  a  list  of  the  most  pressing 
work  that  he  would  undertake  on  the  coming  day.  By 
systematizing  and  planning  ahead  he  was  able  to  accom- 
plish an  unbelievable  amount.  The  earliest  rush  of 
spring  drug  gathering  was  over.  He  could  be  more 
deliberate  in  collecting  the  barks  he  wanted.  Flowers 
that  were  to  be  gathered  at  bloom  time  and  leaves  were 
not  yet  ready.     The  heavy  leaf  coverings  he  had  helped 

68 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    69 

the  winds  to  heap  on  his  beds  of  lily  of  the  valley,  blood- 
root,  and  sarsaparilla  were  removed  carefully. 

Inside  the  cabin  the  Harvester  cleaned  the  glass,  swept 
the  floors  with  a  soft  cloth  pinned  over  the  broom,  and 
hung  pale  yellow  blinds  at  the  windows.  Every  spare  min- 
ute he  worked  on  making  furniture,  and  with  each  piece 
he  grew  in  experience  and  ventured  on  more  difficult 
undertakings.  He  had  progressed  so  far  that  he  now 
allowed  himself  an  hour  each  day  on  the  candlesticks 
for  her.  Every  evening  he  opened  her  door  and  with  soft 
cloths  polished  the  furniture  he  had  made.  When  her 
room  was  completed  and  the  dining-room  partially  fin- 
ished, the  Harvester  took  time  to  stain  the  cabin  and 
porch  roofs  the  shade  of  the  willow  leaves,  and  on  the  logs 
and  pillars  he  used  oil  that  served  to  intensify  the  light 
yellow  of  the  natural  wood.  With  that  much  accom- 
plished he  felt  better.  If  she  came  now,  in  a  few  hours 
he  would  be  able  to  offer  a  comfortable  room,  enough 
conveniences  to  live  until  more  could  be  provided,  and 
of  food  there  was  always  plenty. 

His  daily  programme  was  to  feed  and  water  his  animals 
and  poultry,  prepare  breakfast  for  himself  and  Bel- 
shazzar,  and  go  to  the  woods,  dry-house  or  store-room 
to  do  the  work  most  needful  in  his  harvesting.  In  the 
afternoon  he  laboured  over  furniture  and  put  finishing 
touches  on  the  new  cabin,  and  after  supper  he  carved  and 
found  time  to  read  again,  as  before  his  dream. 

He  was  so  happy  he  whistled  and  sang  at  his  work  much 
of  the  time  at  first,  but  later  there  came  days  when  doubts 


70  THE  HARVESTER 

crept  in  and  all  his  will  power  was  required  to  proceed 
steadily.  As  the  cabin  grew  in  better  shape  for  occupancy 
each  day,  more  pressing  became  the  thought  of  how  he 
was  going  to  find  and  meet  the  girl  of  his  dream.  Some- 
times it  seemed  to  him  that  the  proper  way  was  to  remain 
at  home  and  go  on  with  his  work,  trusting  her  to  come  to 
him.  At  such  times  he  was  happy  and  gaily  whistled 
and  sang: 

"  Stay  in  your  chimney  corner, 
Don't  roam  the  world  about, 
Stay  in  your  chimney  corner, 

And  your  own  true  love  will  find  you  out." 

But  there  were  other  days  while  grubbing  in  the  forest, 
battling  with  roots  in  the  muck  and  mire  of  the  lake 
bank,  staggering  under  a  load  for  two  men,  scarcely  tak- 
ing time  to  eat  and  sleep  enough  to  keep  his  condition 
perfect,  when  that  plan  seemed  too  hopeless  and  sense- 
less to  contemplate.  Then  he  would  think  of  locking 
the  cabin,  leaving  the  drugs  to  grow  undisturbed  by 
collecting,  hiring  a  neighbour  to  care  for  his  living  crea- 
tures, and  starting  a  search  over  the  world  to  find  her. 
There  came  times  when  the  impulse  to  go  was  so  strong 
that  only  the  desire  to  take  a  day  more  to  decide  where, 
kept  him.  Every  time  his  mind  was  made  up  to  start 
the  following  day  came  the  counter  thought,  what  if  I 
should  go  and  she  should  come  in  my  absence?  In  the 
dream  she  came.  That  alone  held  him,  even  in  the  face 
of  the  fact  that  if  he  left  home  some  one  might  know  of 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    71 

and  rifle  the  precious  ginseng-  bed,  carefully  tended  these 
seven  years  for  the  culmination  the  coming  fall  would 
bring.  That  ginseng  was  worth  many  thousands  and  he 
had  laboured  over  it,  fighting  worms  and  parasites,  cov- 
ering and  uncovering  it  with  the  changing  seasons,  a 
siege  of  loving  labour. 

Sometimes  a  few  hours  of  misgiving  tortured  him,  but 
as  a  rule  he  was  cheerful  and  happy  in  his  preparations. 
Without  intending  to  do  it  he  was  gradually  furnishing 
the  cabin.  Every  few  days  saw  a  new  piece  finished  in 
the  workshop.  Each  trip  to  Onabasha  ended  in  the 
purchase  of  some  article  he  could  see  would  harmonize 
with  his  colour  plans  for  one  of  the  rooms.  He  had  filled 
the  flower  boxes  for  the  veranda  with  delicate  plants 
that  were  growing  luxuriantly. 

Then  he  designed  and  began  setting  a  wild-flower 
garden  outside  her  door  and  started  climbing  vines  over 
the  logs  and  porches,  but  whatever  he  planted  he  found 
in  the  woods  or  took  from  beds  he  cultivated.  Many  of 
the  medicinal  vines  had  leaves,  flowers,  twining  tendrils, 
and  berries  or  fruits  of  wonderful  beauty.  Every  trip 
to  the  forest  he  brought  back  a  half  dozen  vines,  plants, 
or  bushes  to  set  for  her.  All  of  them  either  bore  lovely 
flowers,  berries,  quaint  seed  pods,  or  nuts,  and  beside 
the  drive  and  before  the  cabin  he  used  especial  care 
to  plant  a  hedge  of  bittersweet  vines,  burning  bush, 
and  trees  of  mountain  ash,  so  that  the  glory  of  their  colour 
would  enliven  the  winter  when  days  might  be  gloomy. 

He  planted  wild  yam  under  her  windows  that  its  queer 


72  THE  HARVESTER 

rattles  might  amuse  her,  and  hop  trees  where  their  cas- 
tanets would  play  gay  music  with  every  passing  wind  of 
fall.  He  started  a  thicket  along  the  opposite  bank  of 
Singing  Water  where  it  bubbled  past  her  window,  and  in 
it  he  placed  in  graduated  rows  every  shrub  and  small  tree 
bearing  bright  flower,  berry,  or  fruit.  Those  remaining 
he  used  as  a  border  for  the  driveway  from  the  lake,  so  that 
from  earliest  spring  her  eyes  would  fall  on  a  procession  of 
colour  beginning  with  catkins  and  papaw  lilies,  and  run- 
ning through  alders,  haws,  wild  crabs,  dogwood,  plums, 
and  cherry  intermingled  with  forest  saplings  and  vines 
bearing  scarlet  berries  in  fall  and  winter.  In  the  damp  soil 
of  the  same  character  from  which  they  were  removed,  in 
the  shade  and  under  the  skilful  hand  of  the  Harvester,  few 
of  these  knew  they  had  been  transplanted,  and  when  May 
brought  the  catbirds  and  orioles  much  of  this  growth  was 
flowering  quite  as  luxuriantly  as  the  same  species  in  the 
woods. 

The  Harvester  was  in  the  store-house  packing  boxes 
for  shipment.  His  room  was  so  small  and  orders  so 
numerous  that  he  could  not  keep  large  quantities  on  hand. 
All  crude  stuff  that  he  sent  straight  from  the  drying-house 
was  fresh  and  brightly  coloured.  His  stock  always  was 
marked  prime  A-No  I.  There  was  a  step  behind  him  and 
the  Harvester  turned.  A  boy  held  out  a  telegram.  The 
man  opened  it  to  find  an  order  for  some  stuff  to  be  shipped 
that  day  to  a  large  laboratory  in  Toledo. 

His  hands  deftly  tied  packages  and  he  hastily  packed 
bottles  and  nailed  boxes.     Then  he  ran  to  harness  Betsy 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    73 

and  load.  As  he  drove  down  the  hill  to  the  bridge  he 
looked  at  his  watch  and  shook  his  head. 

"What  are  you  good  for  at  a  pinch,  Betsy?"  he  asked 
as  he  flecked  the  surprised  mare's  flank  with  a  switch. 
Belshazzar  cocked  his  ears  and  gazed  at  the  Harvester 
in  astonishment. 

"That  wasn't  enough  to  hurt  her,"  explained  the  man. 
"She  must  speed  up.  This  is  important  business.  The 
amount  involved  is  not  so  much,  but  I  do  love  to  make 
good.  It's  a  part  of  my  religion,  Bel.  And  my  religion 
has  so  precious  few  parts  that  if  I  fail  in  the  observance 
of  any  of  them  it  makes  a  big  hole  in  my  performances. 
Now  we  don't  want  to  end  a  life  full  of  holes,  so  we  must 
get  there  with  this  stuff,  not  because  it's  worth  the  exer- 
tion in  dollars  and  cents,  but  because  these  men  patronize 
us  steadily  and  expect  us  to  fill  orders,  even  by  tele- 
graph.    Hustle,  Betsy!" 

The  whip  fell  again  and  Belshazzar  entered  indignant 
protest. 

"It  isn't  going  to  hurt  her,"  said  the  Harvester  impa- 
tiently. "She  may  walk  all  the  way  back.  She  can  rest 
while  I  get  these  boxes  billed  and  loaded  if  she  can  be 
persuaded  to  get  them  to  the  express  office  on  time.  The 
trouble  with  Betsy  is  that  she  wants  to  meander  along  the 
road  with  a  loaded  wagon  as  her  mother  and  grandmother 
before  her  wandered  through  the  woods  wearing  a  bell  to 
attract  the  deer.  Father  used  to  say  that  her  mother 
was  the  smartest  bell  mare  that  ever  entered  the  forest. 
She'd  not  only  find  the  deer,  but  she'd  make  friends  with 


74  THE  HARVESTER 

them  and  lead  them  straight  as  a  bee-line  to  where  he  was 
hiding.     Betsy,  you  must  travel!" 

The  Harvester  drew  the  lines  taut,  and  the  whip  fell 
smartly.  The  astonished  Betsy  snorted  and  pranced  down 
the  valley  as  fast  as  she  could,  but  every  step  indicated 
that  she  felt  outraged  and  abused.  This  was  the  love- 
liest day  of  the  season.  The  sun  was  shining,  the  air  was 
heavy  with  the  perfume  of  flowering  shrubs  and  trees,  the 
orchards  of  the  valley  were  white  with  bloom.  Farmers 
were  hurrying  back  and  forth  across  fields,  leaving  up- 
turned lines  of  black,  swampy  mould  behind  them,  and 
one  progressive  individual  rode  a  wheeled  plow,  drove 
three  horses  and  enjoyed  the  shelter  of  a  canopy. 

"Saints  preserve  us,  Belshazzar!"  cried  the  Harvester. 
"Do  you  see  that?  He  is  one  of  the  men  who  makes  a 
business  of  calling  me  shiftless.  Now  he  thinks  he  is 
working.  Working!  For  a  full-grown  man,  did  you  ever 
see  the  equal?  If  I  were  going  that  far  I'd  wear  a  tucked 
shirt,  panama  hat,  have  a  pianola  attachment,  and  an 
automatic  fan." 

The  Harvester  laughed  as  he  again  touched  Betsy  and 
hurried  to  Onabasha.  He  scarcely  saw  the  delights 
offered  on  either  hand,  and  where  his  eyes  customarily 
took  in  every  sight,  and  his  ears  were  tuned  for  the  faintest 
note  of  earth  or  tree  top,  to-day  he  saw  only  Betsy  and 
listened  for  a  whistle  he  dreaded  to  hear  at  the  water  tank- 
He  climbed  the  embankment  of  the  railway  at  a  slower 
pace,  but  made  up  time  going  down  hill  to  the  city. 

"I   am   not  getting  a   blame   thing  out  of  this,"   he 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    75 

complained  to  Belshazzar.  "There  are  riches  to  stagger 
any  scientist  wasting  to-day,  and  all  Pve  got  to  show  is  one 
oriole.  I  did  hear  his  first  note  and  see  his  flash,  and  so 
unless  we  can  take  time  to  make  up  for  this  on  the  home 
road  we  will  have  to  christen  it  oriole  day.  It's  a  per- 
fumed golden  day,  too;  I  can  get  that  in  passing,  but  how 
I  loathe  hurrying.  I  don't  mind  planning  things  and 
working  steadily,  but  it's  not  consistent  with  the  dignity 
of  a  sane  man  to  go  rushing  across  country  with  as  much 
appreciation  of  the  delights  offered  right  now  as  a  chicken 
with  its  head  off  would  have.  We  will  loaf  going  back  to 
pay  for  this!  And  won't  we  invite  our  souls?  We  will 
stop  and  gather  a  big  bouquet  of  crab  apple  blossoms  to 
fill  the  green  pitcher  for  her.  Maybe  some  of  their 
wonderful  perfume  will  linger  in  her  room.  When  the 
petals  fall  we  will  scatter  them  in  the  drawers  of  her 
dresser,  and  they  may  distil  a  faint  flower  odour  there.  We 
could  do  that  to  all  her  furniture,  but  perhaps  she  doesn't 
like  perfume.  She'll  be  compelled  to  after  she  reaches 
Medicine  Woods.     Betsy,  you  must  travel  faster!" 

The  whip  fell  again  and  the  Harvester  stopped  at  the 
depot  with  a  few  minutes  to  spare.  He  threw  the  hitching 
strap  to  Belshazzar,  and  ran  into  the  express  office  with 
an  arm  load  of  boxes. 

"Bill  them!"  he  cried.  "It's  a  rush  order.  I  want  it 
to  go  on  the  next  express.  Almost  due  I  think.  I'll  help 
you  and  we  can  book  them  afterward." 

The  expressman  ran  for  a  truck  and  they  hastily 
weighed   and  piled  on  boxes.     When  the  last  one  was 


76  THE  HARVESTER 

loaded  from  the  wagon,  a  heap  more  lying  in  the  office 
were  added,  pitched  on  indiscriminately  as  the  train  pulled 
under  the  sheds  of  the  Union  Station. 

"I'll  push,"  cried  the  Harvester,  "and  help  you  get 
them  on." 

Hurrying  as  fast  as  he  could  the  expressman  drew  the 
heavy  truck  through  the  iron  gates  and  started  toward 
the  train  slowing  to  a  stop,  and  the  Harvester  pushed. 
As  they  came  down  the  platform  they  passed  the  dining 
and  sleeping  cars  of  the  long  train  and  were  several  times 
delayed  by  descending  passengers.  Just  opposite  the 
day  coach  the  expressman  narrowly  missed  running  into 
several  women  leading  small  children  and  stopped 
abruptly.  A  toppling  box  threatened  the  head  of  the 
Harvester.  He  peered  around  the  truck  and  saw  they 
must  wait  a  few  seconds.  He  put  in  the  time  watching 
the  people.  A  gray-haired  old  man,  travelling  in  a  silk 
hat,  wavered  on  the  top  step  and  went  his  way.  A  fat 
woman  loaded  with  bundles  puffed  as  she  clung  trembling 
a  second  in  fear  she  would  miss  the  step  she  could  not  see. 
A  tall,  slender  girl  with  a  face  coldly  white  came  next,  and 
from  the  broken  shoe  she  advanced,  the  bewildered  fright 
of  big,  dark  eyes  glancing  helplessly,  the  Harvester  saw 
that  she  was  poor,  alone,  ill,  and  in  trouble.  Pityingly 
he  turned  to  watch  her,  and  as  he  gauged  her  height, 
saw  her  figure,  and  a  dark  coronet  of  hair  came  into  view, 
a  ghastly  pallor  swept  his  face. 

"Merciful  God!"  he  breathed,  "that's  my  Dream 
Girl!" 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    77 

The  truck  started  with  a  jerk.  The  toppling  box  fell, 
struck  a  passing  boy,  and  knocked  him  down.  The 
mother  screamed  and  the  Harvester  sprang  to  pick  up  the 
child  and  see  that  he  was  not  dangerously  hurt.  Then 
he  ran  after  the  truck,  pitched  on  the  box,  and  whirling, 
sped  beside  the  train  toward  the  gates  of  exit.  There  was 
the  usual  crush,  but  he  could  see  the  tall  figure  passing  up 
the  steps  to  the  depot.  He  tried  to  force  his  way  and  was 
called  a  brute  by  a  crowded  woman.  He  ran  down  the 
platform  to  the  gates  he  had  entered  with  the  truck. 
They  were  automatic  and  had  locked.  Then  he  became  a 
primal  creature  being  cheated  of  a  lawful  mate  and 
climbed  the  high  iron  fence  and  ran  for  the  waiting  room. 

He  swept  it  at  a  glance,  not  forgetting  the  women's 
apartment  and  the  side  entrance.  Then  he  hurried  to  the 
front  exit.  Up  the  street  leading  from  the  city  there  were 
few  people  and  he  could  see  no  sign  of  the  slight,  white- 
faced  girl.  He  crossed  the  sidewalk  and  ran  down  the 
gutter  for  a  block  and  breathlessly  waited  the  passing 
crowd  on  the  corner.  She  was  not  among  it.  He  tried 
one  more  square.  Still  he  could  not  see  her.  Then  he 
ran  back  to  the  depot.  He  thought  surely  he  must  have 
missed  her.  He  again  searched  the  woman's  and  general 
waiting  room  and  then  he  thought  of  the  conductor. 
From  him  it  could  be  learned  where  she  entered  the  car. 
He  ran  for  the  station,  bolted  the  gate  while  the  official 
called  to  him,  and  reached  the  track  in  time  to  see  the 
train  pull  out  within  a  few  yards  of  him. 

"You  blooming  idiot!"  cried  the  angry  expressman  as 


78  THE  HARVESTER 

the  Harvester  ran  against  him,  "where  did  you  go? 
Why  didn't  you  help  me?  You  are  white  as  a  sheet! 
Have  you  lost  your  senses?" 

"Worse!"  groaned  the  Harvester.  "Worse!  I've  lost 
what  I  prize  most  on  earth.  How  could  I  reach  the 
conductor  of  that  train?" 

"Telegraph  him  at  the  next  station.  You  can  have  an 
answer  in  a  half  hour." 

The  Harvester  ran  to  the  office,  and  with  shaking  hand 
wrote  this  message: 

"Where  did  a  tall  girl  with  big  black  eyes  and  wearing  a 
gray  dress  take  your  train?     Important." 

Then  he  went  out  and  minutely  searched  the  depot  and 
streets.  He  hired  an  automobile  to  drive  him  over  the 
business  part  of  Onabasha  for  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 
Up  one  street  and  down  another  he  went  slowly  where 
there  were  crowds,  faster  as  he  could,  but  never  a  sight 
of  her.  Then  he  returned  to  the  depot  and  found  his 
message.  It  read,  "Transferred  to  me  at  Fort  Wayne 
from  Chicago." 

"Chicago  baggage!"  he  cried,  and  hurried  to  the 
check  room.  He  had  lost  almost  an  hour.  When  he 
reached  the  room  he  found  the  officials  busy  and  unwilling 
to  be  interrupted.  Finally  he  learned  there  had  been  a 
half  dozen  trunks  from  Chicago.  All  were  taken  save 
two,  and  one  glance  at  them  told  the  Harvester  that  they 
did  not  belong  to  the  girl  in  gray.  The  others  had  been 
claimed  by  men  having  checks  for  them.  If  she  had  been 
there,  the  officials  had  not  noticed  a  tall  girl  having  a  white 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    79 

face  and  dark  eyes.  When  he  could  think  of  no  further 
effort  to  make  he  drove  to  the  hospital. 

Doctor  Carey  was  not  in  his  office,  and  the  Harvester 
sat  in  the  revolving  chair  before  the  desk  and  gripped  his 
head  between  his  hands  as  he  tried  to  think.  He  could 
not  remember  anything  more  he  could  have  done,  but 
since  what  he  had  done  only  ended  in  failure,  he  was 
reproaching  himself  wildly  that  he  had  taken  his  eyes 
from  the  Girl  an  instant  after  recognizing  her.  Yet  it 
was  in  his  blood  to  be  decent  and  he  could  not  have  run 
away  and  left  a  frightened  woman  and  a  hurt  child. 
Trusting  to  his  fleet  feet  and  strength  he  had  taken  time 
to  replace  the  box  also,  and  then  had  met  the  crowd  and 
delay.  Just  for  the  instant  it  appeared  to  him  as  if  he 
had  done  all  a  man  could,  and  he  had  not  found  her.  If 
he  allowed  her  to  return  to  Chicago,  probably  he  never 
would.  He  leaned  his  head  on  his  hands  and  groaned  in 
discouragement. 

Doctor  Carey  whirled  the  chair  so  that  it  faced  him 
before  the  Harvester  realized  that  he  was  not  alone. 

"What's  the  trouble,  David?"  he  asked  tersely. 

The  Harvester  lifted  a  strained  face. 

"I  came  for  help,"  he  said. 

"Well  you  will  get  it!  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  state 
what  you  want." 

That  seemed  simplicity  itself  to  the  doctor.  But  when 
it  came  to  putting  his  case  into  words,  it  was  not  easy  for 
the  Harvester. 

"Go  on!"  said  the  doctor. 


80  THE  HARVESTER 

"You'll  think  me  a  fool." 

The  doctor  laughed  heartily. 

"No  doubt!"  he  said  soothingly.  "No  doubt,  David! 
Probably  you  are;  so  why  shouldn't  I  think  so.  But 
remember  this,  when  we  make  the  biggest  fools  of  our- 
selves that  is  precisely  the  time  when  we  need  friends, 
and  when  they  stick  to  us  the  tightest,  if  they  are  worth 
while.  I've  been  waiting  since  latter  February  for  you 
to  tell  me.  We  can  fix  it,  of  course;  there's  always  a  way. 
Go  on!" 

"Well  I  wasn't  fooling  about  the  dream  and  the  vision 
I  told  you  of  then,  Doc.  I  did  have  a  dream  —  and  it 
was  a  dream  of  love.  I  did  see  a  vision  —  and  it  was  a 
beautiful  woman." 

"I  hope  you  are  not  nursing  that  experience  as  some- 
thing exclusive  and  peculiar  to  you,"  said  the  doctor. 
"There  is  not  a  normal,  sane  man  living  who  has  not 
dreamed  of  love  and  the  most  exquisite  woman  who  came 
from  the  clouds  or  anywhere  and  was  gracious  to  him. 
That's  a  part  of  a  man's  experience  in  this  world,  and  it 
happens  to  most  of  us,  not  once,  but  repeatedly.  It's  a 
case  where  the  wish  fathers  the  dream." 

"Well  it  hasn't  happened  to  me  'on  repeated  occa- 
sions,' but  it  did  one  night,  and  by  dawn  I  was  converted. 
How  can  a  dream  be  so  real,  Doc?  How  could  I  see  as 
clearly  as  I  ever  saw  in  the  daytime  in  my  most  alert 
moment,  hear  every  step  and  garment  rustle,  scent  the 
perfume  of  hair,  and  feel  warm  breath  strike  my  face?  I 
don't  understand  it!" 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    81 

"Neither  does  any  one  else!  All  you  need  say  is  that 
your  dream  was  real  as  life.     Go  on!" 

"I  built  a  new  cabin  and  pretty  well  overturned  the 
place  and  I've  been  making  furniture  I  thought  a  woman 
would  like,  and  carrying  things  from  town  ever  since." 

"Gee!     It  was  reality  to  you,  lad!" 

"Nothing  ever  more  so,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"And  of  course,  you  have  been  looking  for  her?" 

"And  this  morning  I  saw  her!" 

"David!" 

"Not  the  ghost  of  a  chance  for  a  mistake.  Her  height, 
her  eyes,  her  hair,  her  walk,  her  face;  only  something 
terrible  has  happened  since  she  came  to  me.  It  was  the 
same  girl,  but  she  is  ill  and  in  trouble  now." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"Do  you  suppose  I'd  be  here  if  I  knew?" 

"David,  are  you  dreaming  in  daytime?" 

"  She  got  off  the  Chicago  train  this  morning  while  I  was 
helping  Daniels  load  a  big  truck  of  express  matter. 
Some  of  it  was  mine,  and  it  was  important.  Just  at  the 
wrong  instant  a  box  fell  and  knocked  down  a  child  and 
I  got  in  a  jam " 

"And  as  it  was  you,  of  course  you  stopped  to  pick  up 
the  child  and  do  everything  decent  for  other  folks,  before 
you  thought  of  yourself,  and  so  you  lost  her.  You  needn't 
tell  me  anything  more.  David,  if  I  find  her,  and  prove 
to  you  that  she  has  been  married  ten  years  and  has  an 
interesting  family,  will  you  thank  me?" 

"Can't  be  done!"  said  the  Harvester  calmly.     "She 


82  THE  HARVESTER 

has  been  married  only  since  she  gave  herself  to  me  in 
February,  and  she  is  not  a  mother.  You  needn't  bank 
on  that." 

"You  are  mighty  sure!" 

"Why  not?  I  told  you  the  dream  was  real,  and  now 
that  I  have  seen  her,  and  she  is  in  this  very  town,  why 
shouldn't  I  be  sure?" 

"What  have  you  done?" 

The  Harvester  told  him. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  next?" 

"Talk  it  over  with  you  and  decide." 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"Well  here  are  a  few  things  that  occur  to  me  without 
time  for  thought.  Talk  to  the  ticket  agents,  and  leave 
her  description  with  them.  Make  it  worth  their  while  to 
be  on  the  lookout,  and  if  she  goes  anywhere  to  find  out 
all  they  can.  They  could  make  an  excuse  of  putting  her 
address  on  her  ticket  envelope,  and  get  it  that  way. 
See  the  baggagemen.  Post  the  day  police  on  Main 
Street.  There  is  no  chance  for  her  to  escape  you.  A 
full-grown  woman  doesn't  vanish.  How  did  she  act  when 
she  got  off  the  car?     Did  she  appear  familiar?" 

"No.  She  was  a  stranger.  For  an  instant  she  looked 
around  as  if  she  expected  some  one,  then  she  followed  the 
crowd.  There  must  have  been  an  automoblie  waiting 
or  she  took  a  street  car.  Something  whirled  her  out  of 
sight  in  a  few  seconds." 

"Well  we  will  get  her  in  range  again.  Now  for  the 
most  minute  description  you  can  give." 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    83 

The  Harvester  hesitated.  He  did  not  care  to  describe 
the  Dream  Girl  to  any  one,  much  less  the  living,  suffering 
face  and  poorly  clad  form  of  the  reality. 

"Cut  out  your  scruples,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "You 
have  asked  me  to  help  you;  how  can  I  if  I  don't  know  what 
kind  of  a  woman  to  look  for?" 

"Very  tall  and  slender,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Almost 
as  tall  as  I  am." 

"Unusually  tall  you  think?" 

"I   know!" 

"That's  a  good  point  for  identification.  How  about 
her  complexion,  hair,  and  eyes?" 

"Very  large,  dark  eyes,  and  a  great  mass  of  black  hair." 

The  doctor  roared. 

"The  eyes  may  help,"  he  said.  "All  women  have 
masses  of  hair  these  days.     I  hope " 

"Her  hair  is  fast  to  her  head,"  said  the  Harvester 
indignantly.  "I  saw  it  at  close  range,  and  I  know.  It 
went   around   like   a   crown." 

The  doctor  choked  down  a  laugh.  He  wanted  to  say 
that  every  woman's  hair  was  like  a  crown  at  present,  but 
there  were  things  no  man  ventured  with  David  Langston; 
those  who  knew  him  best,  least  of  any.  So  he  suggested, 
"And  her  colouring?" 

"She  was  white  and  rosy,  a  lovely  thing  in  the  dream," 
said  the  Harvester,  "but  something  dreadful  has  hap- 
pened. That's  all  wiped  out  now.  She  was  very  pale 
when  she  left  the  car." 

"Car  sick,  maybe." 


84  THE  HARVESTER 

"Soul  sick!"  was  the  grim  reply. 

Then  Doctor  Carey  appeared  so  disturbed  the  Har- 
vester noticed  it. 

"You  needn't  think  I'd  be  here  prating  about  her  if  I 
wasn't  forced.  If  she  had  been  rosy  and  well  as  she  was 
in  the  dream,  I'd  have  made  my  hunt  alone  and  found 
her,  too.  But  when  I  saw  she  was  sick  and  in  trouble,  it 
took  all  the  courage  out  of  me,  and  I  broke  for  help.  She 
must  be  found  at  once,  and  when  she  is  you  are  probably 
the  first  man  I'll  want.  I  am  going  to  put  up  a  pretty 
stiff  search  myself,  and  if  I  find  her  I'll  send  or  get  her  to 
you  if  I  can.  Put  her  in  the  best  ward  you  have  and  any- 
thing money  will  do " 

The  face  of  the  doctor  was  growing  troubled. 

"Day  coach  or  Pullman?"  he  asked. 

"Day." 

"How  was  she  dressed?" 

"Small  black  hat,  very  plain.  Gray  jacket  and  skirt, 
neat  as  a  flower." 

"What  you'd  call  expensively  dressed?" 

The  Harvester  hesitated. 

"What  I'd  call  carefully  dressed,  but but  poverty 

poor,  if  you  will  have  it,  Doc." 

Doctor  Carey's  lips  closed  and  then  opened  in  sudden 
resolution. 

"David,  I  don't  like  it,"  he  said  tersely. 

The  Harvester  met  his  eye  and  purposely  misunder- 
stood him. 

"Neither  do  I!"  he  exclaimed.     "I  hate  it!     There  is 


WHEN  THE  HARVESTER  MADE  GOOD    85 

something  wrong  witn  the  wnole  world  when  a  woman 
having  a  face  full  of  purity,  intellect,  and  refinement  of 
extreme  type  glances   around  her  like  a  hunted   thing; 
when   her   appearance   seems   to   indicate   that   she   has 
starved  her  body  to  clothe  it.     I  know  what  is  in  your 
mind,  Doc,  but  if  I  were  you  I  wouldn't  put  it  into  words, 
and  I  wouldn't  even  think  it.     Has  it  been  your  experi- 
ence in  this  world  that  women  not  fit  to  know  skimp  their 
bodies  to  cover  them?     Does  a  girl  of  light  character  and 
little  brain  have  the  hardihood  to  advance  a  foot  covered 
with  a  broken  shoe?     If  I  could  tell  you  that  she  rode  in  a 
Pullman,  and  wore  exquisite  clothing,  you  would  be  doing 
something.     The  other  side  of  the  picture  shuts  you  up 
like  a  clam,  and  makes  you  appear  shocked.     Let  me  tell 
you  this :     No  other  woman  I  ever  saw  anywhere  on  God's 
footstool  had  a  face  of  more  delicate  refinement,  eyes  of 
purer  intelligence.     I  am  of  the  woods,  and  while  they 
don't  teach  me  how  to  shine  in  society,  they  do  instil 
always  and  forever  the  fineness  of  nature  and  her  ways. 
I  have  her  lessons  so  well  learned  they  help  me  more  than 
anything  else  to  discern  the  qualities  of  human  nature. 
If  you  are  my  friend,  and  have  any  faith  at  all  in  my 
common  sense,  get  up  and  do  something!" 

The  doctor  arose  promptly. 

"David,  I'm  an  ass,"  he  said.  "Unusually  lop-eared, 
and  blind  in  the  bargain.  But  before  I  ask  you  to  for- 
give me,  I  want  you  to  remember  two  things :  First  she 
did  not  visit  me  in  my  dreams;  and,  second,  I  did  not  see 
her  in  reality.     I  had  nothing  to  judge  from  except  what 


86  THE  HARVESTER 

you  said:  you  seemed  reluctant  to  tell  me,  and  what  you 

did  say  was was disturbing  to  a  friend  of  yours. 

I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  if  I  had  seen  her  I  would 
agree  with  you.  We  seldom  disagree,  David.  Now,  will 
you  forgive  me?" 

The  Harvester  suddenly  faced  a  window.  When  at 
last  he  turned,  "The  offence  lies  with  me,"  he  said.  "I 
was  hasty.     Are  you  going  to  help  me?" 

"With  all  my  heart!  Go  home  and  work  until  your 
head  clears,  then  come  back  in  the  morning.  She  did  not 
come  from  Chicago  for  a  day.  You've  done  all  I  know 
to  do  at  present." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  went  to  Betsy  and  Belshazzar,  and  slowly  drove  up 
and  down  the  streets  until  Betsy  protested  and  calmly 
turned  homeward.  The  Harvester  smiled  ruefully  as  he 
allowed  her  to  proceed. 

"Go  slow  and  take  it  easy,"  he  said  as  they  reached  the 
country.     "I  want  to  think." 

Betsy  stopped  at  the  barn,  the  white  doves  took  wing, 
and  Ajax  screamed  shrilly  before  the  Harvester  aroused 
in  the  slightest  to  anything  around  him.  Then  he  looked 
at  Belshazzar  and  said  emphatically:  "Now,  partner, 
don't  ever  again  interfere  when  I  am  complying  with 
the  observances  of  my  religion.  Just  look  what  I'd  have 
missed  if  I  hadn't  made  good  with  that  order!" 


CHAPTER  VI 
To  Labour  and  to  Wait 

WE  HAVE  reached  the  'beginning  of  the  end,' 
Ajax!"  said  the  Harvester,  as  the  peacock 
ceased  screaming  and  came  to  seek  food  from 
his  hand.  "We  have  seen  the  Girl.  Now  we  must 
locate  her  and  convince  her  that  Medicine  Woods  is  her 
happy  home.  I  feel  quite  equal  to  the  latter  proposi- 
tion, Ajax,  but  how  the  nation  to  find  her  sticks  me. 
I  can't  make  a  search  so  open  that  she  will  know  and 
resent  it.  She  must  have  all  the  consideration  ever 
paid  the  most  refined  woman,  but  she  also  has  got  to 
be  found,  and  that  speedily.  When  I  remember  that 
look  on  her  face,  as  if  horrors  were  snatching  at  her 
skirts,  it  takes  all  the  grit  out  of  me.  I  feel  weak  as  a 
sapling.  And  she  needs  all  my  strength.  I've  simply 
got  to  brace  up.  I'll  work  a  while  and  then  perhaps 
I  can  think." 

So  the  Harvester  began  the  evening  routine.  He 
thought  he  did  not  want  anything  to  eat,  but  when  he 
opened  the  cupboard  and  smelled  the  food  he  learned 
that  he  was  a  hungry  man  and  he  cooked  and  ate  a 

87 


88  THE  HARVESTER 

good  supper.  He  put  away  everything  carefully,  for 
even  the  kitchen  was  dainty  and  fresh  and  he  wanted  to 
keep  it  so  for  her.  When  he  finished  he  went  into  the 
living-room,  stood  before  the  fireplace,  and  studied  the 
collection  of  half-finished  candlesticks  grouped  upon  it. 
He  picked  up  several  and  examined  them  closely,  but 
realized  that  he  could  not  bind  himself  to  the  exactions 
of  carving  that  evening.  He  took  a  key  from  his  pocket 
and  unlocked  her  door.  Every  day  he  had  been  going 
there  to  improve  upon  his  work  for  her,  and  he  loved  the 
room,  the  outlook  from  its  windows;  he  was  very  proud 
of  the  furniture  he  had  made.  There  was  no  paper- 
thin  covering  on  her  chairs,  bed,  and  dressing  table. 
The  tops,  seats,  and  posts  were  solid  wood,  worth  hun- 
dreds of  dollars  for  veneer. 

To-night  he  folded  his  arms  and  stood  on  the  sill 
hesitating.  While  she  was  a  dream,  he  had  loved  to 
linger  in  her  room.  Now  that  she  was  reality,  he  paused. 
In  one  golden  May  day  the  place  had  become  sacred. 
Since  he  had  seen  the  Girl  that  room  was  so  hers  that 
he  was  hesitating  about  entering  because  of  this  fact. 
It  was  as  if  the  tall,  slender  form  stood  before  the  chest 
of  drawers  or  sat  at  the  dressing  table  and  he  did  not 
dare  enter  unless  he  were  welcome.  Softly  he  closed 
the  door  and  went  away.  He  wandered  to  the  dry- 
house  and  turned  the  bark  and  roots  on  the  trays,  but 
the  air  stifled  him  and  he  hurried  out.  He  tried  to  work 
in  the  packing  room,  but  walls  smothered  him  and  again 
he  sought  the  open. 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  89 

He  espied  a  bundle  of  osier-bound,  moss-covered  ferns 
that  he  had  found  in  the  woods,  and  brought  the  shovel 
to  transplant  them;  but  the  work  worried  him,  and  he 
hurried  through  with  it.  Then  he  looked  for  something 
else  to  do  and  saw  an  ax.  He  caught  it  up  and  with 
lusty  strokes  began  swinging  it.  When  he  had  chopped 
wood  until  he  was  very  tired  he  went  to  bed.  Sleep 
came  to  the  strong,  young  frame  and  he  awoke  in  the 
morning  refreshed  and  hopeful. 

He  wondered  why  he  had  bothered  Doctor  Carey. 
The  Harvester  felt  able  that  morning  to  find  his  Dream 
Girl  without  assistance  before  the  day  was  over.  It 
was  merely  a  matter  of  going  to  the  city  and  locating 
a  woman.  Yesterday,  it  had  been  a  question  of  whether 
she  really  existed.  To-day,  he  knew.  Yesterday,  it 
had  meant  a  search  possibly  as  wide  as  earth  to  find  her. 
To-day,  it  was  narrowed  to  only  one  location  so  small, 
compared  with  Chicago,  that  the  Harvester  felt  he  could 
sift  its  population  with  his  fingers,  and  pick  her  from 
others  at  his  first  attempt.  If  she  were  visiting  there 
probably  she  would  rest  during  the  night,  and  be  on  the 
streets  to-day. 

When  he  remembered  her  face  he  doubted  it.  He 
decided  to  spend  part  of  the  time  on  the  business  streets 
and  the  remainder  in  the  residence  portions  of  the  city. 
Because  it  was  uncertain  when  he  would  return,  every- 
thing was  fed  a  double  portion,  and  Betsy  was  left 
at  a  livery  stable  with  instructions  to  care  for  her  until 
he  came.     He   did   not   know  where   the   search   would 


90  THE  HARVESTER 

lead  him.  For  several  hours  he  slowly  walked  the 
business  district  and  then  ranged  farther,  but  not  a 
sight  of  her.  He  never  had  known  that  Onabasha  was 
so  large.  On  its  crowded  streets  he  did  not  feel  that  he 
could  sift  the  population  through  his  fingers,  nor  could 
he  open  doors  and  search  houses  without  an  excuse. 

Some  small  boys  passed  him  eating  bananas,  and  the 
Harvester  looked  at  his  watch  and  was  amazed  to  find 
that  the  day  had  advanced  until  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  He  was  tired  and  hungry.  He  went  into 
a  restaurant  and  ordered  lunch;  as  he  waited  a  girl 
serving  tables  smiled  at  him.  Any  other  time  the 
Harvester  would  have  returned  at  least  a  pleasant 
look,  and  gone  his  way.  To-day  he  scowled  at  her,  and 
ate  in  hurried  discomfort.  On  the  streets  again,  he  had 
no  idea  where  to  go  and  so  he  went  to  the  hospital. 

"I  expected  you  early  this  morning,"  was  the  greeting 
of  Doctor  Carey.  "Where  have  you  been  and  what 
have  you  done?" 

"Nothing,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  was  so  sure  she 
would  be  on  the  streets  I  just  watched,  but  I  didn't 
see  her." 

"We  will  go  to  the  depot,"  said  the  doctor.  "The 
first  thing  is  to  keep  her  from  leaving  town." 

They  arranged  with  the  ticket  agents,  expressmen, 
telegraphers,  and,  as  they  left,  the  Harvester  stopped 
and  tipped  the  train  caller,  offering  further  reward  worth 
while  if  he  would  find  the  Girl. 

"Now  we  will  go  to  the  police  station,"  said  the  doctor. 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  91 

"I'll  see  the  chief  and  have  him  issue  a  general  order  to 
his  men  to  watch  for  her,  but  if  I  were  you  I'd  select 
a  half  dozen  in  the  down  town  district,  and  give  them  a 
little  tip  with  a  big  promise!" 

"Good  Lord!  How  I  hate  this,"  groaned  the  Harvester. 

"Want  to  find  her  by  yourself?"  questioned  his  friend. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  do!  And  I  would,  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  her  ghastly  face.  That  drives  me  to 
resort  to  any  measures.  The  probabilities  are  that  she 
is  lying  sick  somewhere,  and  if  her  comfort  depends  on 
the  purse  that  dressed  her,  she  will  suffer.  Doc,  do  you 
know  how  awful  this  is?" 

"I  know  that  you've  got  a  great  imagination.  If  the 
woods  make  all  men  as  sensitive  as  you  are,  those  who 
have  business  to  transact  should  stay  out  of  them. 
Take  a  common-sense  view.  Look  at  this  as  I  do.  If 
she  was  strong  enough  to  travel  in  a  day  coach  from 
Chicago,  she  can't  be  so  very  ill  to-day.  Leaving  life 
by  the  inch  isn't  that  easy.  She  will  be  alive  this  time 
next  year,  whether  you  find  her  or  not.  The  chances 
are  that  her  stress  was  mental  anyway,  and  trouble  al- 
most   never   overcomes    any    one." 

"You,  a  doctor  and  say  that!" 

"Oh,  I  mean  instantaneously in  a  day!     Of  course 

if  it  grinds  away  for  years!  But  youth  doesn't  allow  it 
to  do  that.  It  throws  it  off,  and  grows  hopeful  and  happy 
again.  She  won't  die;  put  that  out  of  your  mind.  If 
I  were  you  I  would  go  home  now  and  go  straight  on  with 
my  work,   trusting  to  the  machinery  you  have  set  in 


92  THE  HARVESTER 

motion.  I  know  most  of  the  men  with  whom  we  have 
talked.  They  will  locate  her  in  a  week  or  less.  It's 
their  business.  It  isn't  yours.  It's  your  job  to  be  ready 
for  her,  and  have  enough  ahead  to  support  her  when 
they  find  her.  Try  to  realize  that  there  are  now  a  dozen 
men  on  hunt  for  her,  and  trust  them.  Go  back  to  your 
work,  and  I  will  come  full  speed  in  the  motor  when  the 
first  man  sights  her.  That  ought  to  satisfy  you.  I've 
told  all  of  them  to  call  me  at  the  hospital,  and  I  will  tell 
my  assistant  what  to  do  in  case  a  call  comes  while  I 
am  away.  Straighten  your  face!  Go  back  to  Medicine 
Woods  and  harvest  your  crops,  and  before  you  know  it 
she  will  be  located.  Then  you  can  put  on  your  Sunday 
clothes  and  show  yourself,  and  see  if  you  can  make  her 
take  notice." 

"Idiot!"  exclaimed  the  Harvester,  but  he  started  home. 
When  he  arrived  he  attended  to  his  work  and  then  sat 
down  to  think. 

"Doc  is  right,"  was  his  ultimate  conclusion.  "She 
can't  leave  the  city,  she  can't  move  around  in  it,  she 
can't  go  anywhere,  without  being  seen.  There's  one 
more  point:  I  must  tell  Carey  to  post  all  the  doctors 
to  report  if  they  have  such  a  call.  That's  all  I  can 
think  of.  I'll  go  to-night,  and  then  I'll  look  over  the 
ginseng  for  parasites,  and  to-morrow  I'll  dive  into  the 
late  spring  growth  and  work  until  I  haven't  time  to  think. 
I've  let  cranesbill  get  a  week  past  me  now,  and  it  can't 
be  dispensed  with." 

So   the   following  morning,   when   the  Harvester  had 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  93 

completed  his  work  at  the  cabin  and  barn  and  breakfasted, 
he  took  a  mattock  and  a  big  hempen  bag,  and  followed 
the  path  to  the  top  of  the  hill.  As  it  ran  along  the  lake 
bank  he  descended  on  the  other  side  to  several  acres  of 
cleared  land,  where  he  raised  corn  for  his  stock,  pota- 
toes, and  coarser  garden  truck,  for  which  there  was  not 
space  in  the  smaller  enclosure  close  the  cabin.  Around 
the  edges  of  these  fields,  and  where  one  of  them  sloped 
toward  the  lake,  he  began  grubbing  a  variety  of  grass 
having  tall  stems  already  over  a  foot  in  height  at  half 
growth.  From  each  stem  waved  four  or  five  leaves  of 
six  or  eight  inches  length  and  the  top  showed  forming 
clusters  of  tiny  spikelets. 

"I  am  none  too  early  for  you,"  he  muttered  to  himself 
as  he  ran  the  mattock  through  the  rich  earth,  lifting 
the  long,  tough,  jointed  root  stalks  of  pale  yellow,  from 
every  section  of  which  broke  sprays  of  fine  rootlets. 
"None  too  early  for  you,  and  as  you  are  worth  only 
seven  cents  a  pound,  you  couldn't  be  considered  a  'get- 
rich-quick'  expedient,  so  I'll  only  stop  long  enough  with 
you  to  gather  what  I  think  my  customers  will  order, 
and  amass  a  fortune  a  little  later  picking  mullein  flowers 
at  seventy-five  cents  a  pound.  What  a  crop  I've  got 
coming!" 

The  Harvester  glanced  ahead,  where  in  the  cleared  soil 
of  the  bank  grew  large  plants  with  leaves  like  yellow-green 
felt  and  tall  bloom  stems  rising.  Close  them  flourished 
other  species  requiring  dry  sandy  soil,  that  gradually 
changed    as    it   approached   the   water   until    it   became 


94  THE  HARVESTER 

covered  with  rank  abundance  of  short,  wiry  grass,  half 
the  blades  of  which  appeared  red.  Numerous  every- 
where he  could  see  the  grayish-white  leaves  of  Parnassus 
grass.  As  the  season  advanced  it  would  lift  heart- 
shaped  velvet  higher,  and  before  fall  the  stretch  of  emerald 
would  be  starred  with  white-faced,  green-striped  flowers. 

"Not  a  prettier  sight  on  earth,"  commented  the 
Harvester,  "than  just  swale  wire  grass  in  September 
making  a  fine,  thick  background  to  set  off  those  delicate 
starry  flowers  on  their  slender  stems.  I  must  remember 
to  bring  her  to  see  that." 

His  eyes  followed  the  growth  to  the  water.  As  the 
grass  drew  closer  moisture  it  changed  to  the  rank,  sweet, 
swamp  variety,  then  came  bulrushes,  cat-tails,  water 
smartweed,  docks,  and  in  the  water  blue  flag  lifted 
folded  buds;  at  its  feet  arose  yellow  lily  leaves  and  farther 
out  spread  the  white.  As  the  light  struck  the  surface 
the  Harvester  imagined  he  could  see  the  little  green 
buds  several  inches  below.  Above  all  arose  wild  rice 
he  had  planted  for  the  birds.  The  red  wings  swayed  on 
the  willows  and  tilted  on  every  stem  that  would  bear 
their  weight,  singing  their  melodious  half-chanted  notes, 
"O-ka-lee!" 

Beneath  them  the  ducks  gobbled,  splashed,  and  chat- 
tered; grebe  and  coot  voices  could  be  distinguished; 
king  rails  at  times  flashed  into  sight  and  out  again; 
marsh  wrens  scolded  and  chattered;  occasionally  a  king- 
fisher darted  around  the  lake  shore,  rolling  his  rattling 
cry    and    flashing    his    azure    coat    and    gleaming    white 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  95 

collar.  On  a  hollow  tree  in  the  woods  a  yellow  ham- 
mer proved  why  he  was  named,  because  he  carpentered 
industriously  to  enlarge  the  entrance  to  the  home  he 
was  excavating  in  a  dead  tree;  and  sailing  over  the 
lake  and  above  the  woods  in  grace  scarcely  surpassed 
by  any,  a  lonesome  turkey  buzzard  awaited  his  mate's 
decison  as  to  which  hollow  log  was  most  suitable  for 
their  home. 

The  Harvester  stuffed  the  grass  roots  in  the  bag  until 
it  would  hold  no  more  and  stood  erect  to  wipe  his  face, 
for  the  sun  was  growing  warm.  As  he  drew  his  hand- 
kerchief across  his  brow,  the  south  wind  struck  him  with 
enough  intensity  to  attract  attention.  Instantly  the 
Harvester  removed  his  hat,  rolled  it  up,  and  put  it  into 
his  pocket.  He  stood  an  instant  delighting  in  the  wind 
and  then  spoke. 

"Allow  me  to  express  my  most  fervent  thanks  for 
your  kindness,"  he  said.  "I  thought  probably  you 
would  take  that  message,  since  it  couldn't  mean  much 
to  you,  and  it  meant  all  the  world  to  me.  I  thought 
you  would  carry  it,  but,  I  confess,  I  scarcely  expected 
the  answer  so  soon.  The  only  thing  that  could  make  me 
more  grateful  to  you  would  be  to  know  exactly  where 
she  is:  but  you  must  understand  that  it's  like  a  peep 
into  Heaven  to  have  her  existence  narrowed  to  one 
place.     I'm  bound  to  be  able  to  say  inside  a  few  days, 

she  lives  at  number I  don't  know  yet,  on  street 

I'll  find  out  soon,  in  the  closest  city,  Onabasha.  And 
I  know  why  you  brought  her,  South  Wind.     If  ever  a 


96  THE  HARVESTER 

girl's  cheeks  need  fanning  with  your  breezes,  and  paint- 
ing with  sun  kisses,  I  wouldn't  mind,  since  this  is  strictly 
private,  adding  a  few  of  mine;  if  ever  any  one  needed 
flowers,  birds,  fresh  air,  water,  and  rest!  Good  Lord, 
South  Wind,  did  you  ever  reach  her  before  you  carried 
that  message?  I  think  not!  But  Onabasha  isn't  so 
large.  You  and  the  sun  should  get  your  innings  there. 
I  do  hope  she  is  not  trying  to  work!  I  can  attend  to 
that;  and  so  there  will  be  more  time  when  she  is  found, 
I'd  better  hustle  now." 

He  picked  up  the  bag  and  returned  to  the  dry-house, 
where  he  carefully  washed  the  roots  and  spread  them 
on  the  trays.  Then  he  took  the  same  bag  and  mattock 
and  going  through  the  woods  in  the  opposite  direction 
he  came  to  a  heavy  growth  in  a  cleared  space  of  high 
ground.  The  bloom  heads  were  forming  and  the  plant 
was  half  matured.  The  Harvester  dug  a  cylindrical, 
tapering  root,,  wrinkling  lengthwise,  wiped  it  clean, 
broke  and  tasted  it.  He  made  a  wry  face.  He  stood 
examining  the  white  wood  with  its  brown-red  bark  and, 
deciding  that  it  was  in  prime  condition,  be  began  digging 
the  plants.  It  was  common  wayside  "  Bouncing  Bet," 
but  the  Harvester  called  it  "soapwort."  He  took  every 
other  plant  in  his  way  across  the  bed,  and  when  he 
digged  a  heavy  load  he  carried  it  home,  stripped  the 
leaves,  and  spread  them  on  trays,  while  the  roots  he 
topped,  washed,  and  put  to  dry  also.  Then  he  whistled 
for  Belshazzar  and  went  to  lunch. 

As  he  passed  down  the  road  to  the  cabin  his  face  was 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  97 

a  study  of  conflicting  emotions,  and  his  eyes  had  a  far- 
away appearance  of  deep  thought.  Every  tree  of  his 
stretch  of  forest  was  rustling  fresh  leaves  to  shelter  him; 
dogwood,  wild  crab,  and  hawthorn  offered  their  flowers; 
earth  held  up  her  tribute  in  painted  trillium  faces,  spring 
beauties,  and  violets,  blue,  white,  and  yellow.  Mosses, 
ferns,  and  lichen  decorated  the  path;  all  the  birds 
greeted  him  in  friendship,  and  sang  their  purest  melodies. 
The  sky  was  blue,  the  sun  bright,  the  air  perfumed 
for  him;  Belshazzar,  always  true  to  his  name,  protected 
every  footstep;  Ajax,  the  shimmering  green  and  gold 
wonder,  came  up  the  hill  to  meet  him;  the  white  doves 
circled  above  his  head.  Stumbling  half  blindly,  the 
Harvester  passed  unheeding  among  them,  and  went 
into  the  cabin.  When  he  came  out  he  stood  a  long 
time  in  deep  study,  but  at  last  he  returned  to  the 
woods. 

"Perhaps  they  will  have  found  her  before  night,"  he 
said.  "I'll  harvest  the  cranesbill  yet,  because  it's  grow- 
ing late  for  it,  and  then  I'll  see  how  they  are  coming  on. 
Maybe  they'd  know  her  if  they  met  her,  and  maybe 
they  wouldn't.  She  may  wear  different  clothing,  and 
freshen  up  after  her  trip.  She  might  have  been  car  sick, 
as  Doc  suggested,  and  appear  very  different  when  she 
feels  better." 

He  skirted  the  woods  around  the  northeast  end  and 
stopped  at  a  big  bed  of  exquisite  growth.  Tall,  wiry 
stems  sprang  upward  almost  two  feet  in  height;  leaves 
six  inches  across  were  cut  in  ragged  lobes  almost  to  the 


98  THE  HARVESTER 

base,  and  here  and  there,  enough  to  colour  the  entire 
bed  a  delicate  rose  or  sometimes  a  violet  purple,  the 
first  flowers  were  unfolding.  The  Harvester  lifted  a 
root  and  tasted  it. 

"No  doubt  about  you  being  astringent,"  he  muttered. 
"You  have  enough  tannin  in  you  to  pucker  a  mushroom. 
By  the  way,  those  big,  corn-cobby  fellows  should  spring 
up  with  the  next  warm  rain,  and  the  hotels  and  res- 
taurants always  pay  high  prices.  I  must  gather  a  few 
bushels." 

He  looked  over  the  bed  of  beautiful  wild  alum  and 
hesitated. 

"I  vow  I  hate  to  touch  you,"  he  said.  "You  are  a 
picture  right  now,  and  in  a  week  you  will  be  a  miracle. 
It  seems  a  shame  to  tear  up  a  plant  for  its  roots,  just  at 
flowering  time,  and  I  can't  avoid  breaking  down  half  I 
don't  take,  getting  the  ones  I  do.  I  wish  you  were  not 
so  pretty!  You  are  one  of  the  colours  I  love  most. 
You  remind  me  of  red-bud,  blazing  star,  and  all  those 
exquisite  magenta  shades  that  poets,  painters,  and  the 
Almighty  who  made  them  love  so  much  they  hesitate 
about  using  them  lavishly.  You  are  so  delicate  and 
graceful  and  so  modest.  I  wish  she  could  see  you! 
I  got  to  stop  this  or  I  won't  be  able  to  lift  a  root.  I 
never  would  if  the  ten  cents  a  pound  I'll  get  out  of  it 
were  the  only  consideration." 

The  Harvester  gripped  the  mattock  and  advanced 
to  the  bed.  "What  I  must  be  thinking  is  that  you  are 
indispensable  to  the  sick  folks.     The  steady  demand  for 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  99 

you  proves  your  value,  and  of  course,  humanity  comes 
first,  after  all.  If  I  remain  in  the  woods  alone  much 
longer  I'll  get  to  the  place  where  I'm  not  so  sure  that 
it  does.  Seems  as  if  animals,  birds,  flowers,  trees,  and 
insects  as  well,  have  their  right  to  life  also.  But  it's 
for  me  to  remember  the  sick  folks!  If  I  thought  the 
Girl  would  get  some  of  it  now,  I  could  overturn  the  bed 
with  a  stout  heart.  If  any  one  ever  needed  a  tonic,  I 
think  she  does.  Maybe  some  of  this  will  reach  her.  If 
it  does,  I  hope  it  will  make  her  cheeks  just  the  lovely 
pink  of  the  bloom.  Oh  Lord!  If  only  she  hadn't 
appeared  so  sick  and  frightened!  What  is  there  in  all 
this  world  of  sunshine  to  make  a  girl  glance  around  her 
like  that?  I  wish  I  knew!  Maybe  they  will  have 
found  her  by  night." 

,  The  Harvester  began  work  on  the  bed,  but  he  knelt 
and  among  the  damp  leaves  from  the  spongy  black 
earth  he  lifted  the  roots  with  his  fingers  and  carefully 
straightened  and  pressed  down  the  plants  he  did  not 
take.  This  required  more  time  than  usual,  but  his 
heart  was  so  sore  he  could  not  be  rough  with  anything, 
most  of  all  a  flower.  So  he  harvested  the  wild  alum 
by  hand,  and  heaped  large  stacks  of  roots  around  the 
edges  of  the  bed.  Often  he  paused  as  he  worked  and 
on  his  knees  stared  through  the  forest  as  if  he  hoped 
perhaps  she  would  realize  his  longing  for  her,  and  come 
to  him  in  the  wood  as  she  had  across  the  water. 
Over  and  over  he  repeated,  "Perhaps  they  will  find 
her    by    night!"   and    that    so    intensified    the    meaning 


.  ioo  THE  HARVESTER 

that  once  he  said  it  aloud.     His  face  clouded   and  grew 
dark. 

"Dealish  nice  business!"  he  said.  "I  am  here  in  the 
woods  digging  flower  roots,  and  a  gang  of  men  in  the 
city  are  searching  for  the  girl  I  love.  If  ever  a  job  seemed 
peculiarly  a  man's  own,  it  appears  this  would  be.  What 
business  has  any  other  man  spying  after  my  woman? 
Why  am  I  not  down  there  doing  my  own  work,  as  I 
always  have  done  it?  Who's  more  likely  to  find  her 
than  I  am?  It  seems  as  if  there  would  be  an  instinct 
that  would  lead  me  straight  to  her,  if  I'd  go.  And  you 
can  wager  I'll  go  fast  enough." 

The  Harvester  appeared  as  if  he  would  start  that 
instant,  but  with  lips  closely  shut  he  finally  forced  him- 
self to  go  on  with  his  work.  When  he  had  rifled  the  bed, 
and  uprooted  all  he  cared  to  take  during  one  season,, 
he  carried  the  roots  to  the  lake  shore  below  the -curing 
house,  and  spread  them  on  a  platform  he  had  built. 
He  stepped  into  his  boat  and  began  dashing  pails  of  water 
over  them  and  using  a  brush.  As  he  worked  he  washed 
away  the  woody  scars  of  last  year's  growth,  and  the  tiny 
buds  appearing  for  the  coming  season. 

Belshazzar  sat  on  the  opposite  bank  and  watched 
the  operation;  and  Ajax  came  down  and,  flying  to  a 
dead  stump,  erected  and  slowly  waved  his  train  to  attract 
the  sober-faced  man  who  paid  no  heed.  He  left  the 
roots  to  drain  while  he  prepared  supper,  then  placed 
them  on  the  trays,  now  filled  to  overflowing,  and  was 
glad  he  had  finished.     He  could  not  cure  anything  else 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  101 

at  present  if  he  wanted  to.  He  was  as  far  advanced  as 
he  had  been  at  the  same  time  the  previous  year.  Then 
he  dressed  neatly  and  locking  the  Girl's  roomy  and  leaving 
Belshazzar  to  protect  it,  he  went  to  Onabasha. 

"Bravo!"  cried  Doctor  Carey  as  the  Harvester  en- 
tered his  office.  "You  are  heroic  to  wait  all  day  for 
news.     How  much  stuff  have  you  gathered?" 

"Three  crops.  How  many  missing  women  have  you 
located?" 

The  doctor  laughed.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  smile 
on  the  face  of  the  Harvester. 

"You  didn't  really  expect  her  to  come  to  light  the 
first  day?  That  would  be  too  easy!  We  can't  find  her 
in  a  minute." 

"It  will  be  no  surprise  to  me  if  you  can't  find  her  at 
all.  I  am  not  expecting  another  man  to  do  what  I  don't 
myself." 

"You  are  not  hunting  her.  You  are  harvesting  the 
woods.     The  men  you  employ  are  to  find  her." 

"Maybe  I  am,  and  maybe  I  am  not."  said  the  Harvester 
slowly.  "To  me  it  appears  to  be  a  poor  stick  of  a  man 
who  coolly  proceeds  with  money  making,  and  trusts  to 
men  who  haven't  even  seen  her  to  search  for  the  girl 
he  loves.  I  think  a  few  hours  of  this  is  about  all  my 
patience  will  endure." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Harvester.     "But  you  can 

bank  on  one  thing  sure I'm  going  to  do  something! 

I've  had  my  fill  of  this.     Thank  you  for  all  you've  done, 


102  THE  HARVESTER 

and  art  you  are  going  to  do.  My  head  is  not  clear  enough 
yet  to  decide  anything  with  any  sense,  but  maybe  I'll 
hit  on 'something  soon.     I'm  for  the  streets  for  a  while." 

"Better  go  home  and  go  to  bed.  You  seem  very 
tired." 

"I  am,"  said  the  Harvester.  "The  only  way  to  en- 
dure this  is  to  work  myself  down.  I'm  all  right,  and 
I'll  be  careful,  but  I   rather  think  I'll  find  her  myself." 

"Better  go  on  with  your  work  as  we  planned." 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  said  the  Harvester  as  he  went 
out. 

Until  he  was  too  tired  to  walk  farther  he  slowly  paced 
the  streets  of  the  city,  and  then  followed  the  home  road 
through  the  valley  and  up  the  hill  to  Medicine  Woods. 
When  he  came  to  Singing  Water,  Belshazzar  heard  his 
steps  on  the  bridge,  and  came  bounding  to  meet  him.  The 
Harvester  stretched  himself  on  a  seat  and  turned  his 
face  to  the  sky.  It  was  a  deep,  dark-blue  bowl,  closely 
set  with  stars,  and  a  bright  moon  shed  a  soft  May  radiance 
on  the  young  earth.  The  lake  was  flooded  with  light, 
and  the  big  trees  of  the  forest  crowning  the  hill  were 
silver  coroneted.  The  unfolding  leaves  had  hidden  the 
new  cabin  from  the  bridge,  but  the  driveway  shone  white, 
and  already  the  upspringing  bushes  hedged  it  in.  In- 
sects were  humming  lazily  in  the  perfumed  night  air, 
and  across  the  lake  a  courting  whip-poor-will  was  ex- 
plaining to  his  sweetheart  just  how  much  and  why  he 
loved  her.  A  few  bats  were  wavering  in  air  hunting 
insects,  and  occasionally  an  owl  or  a  nighthawk  crossed 


TO  LABOUR  AND  TO  WAIT  103 

the  lake.  Killdeer  were  glorying  in  the  moonlight  and 
night  flight,  and  cried  in  pure,  clear  notes  as  they  sailed 
over  the  water.  The  Harvester  was  tired  and  filled 
with  unrest  as  he  stretched  on  the  bridge,  but  the  longer 
he  lay  the  more  the  enfolding  voices  comforted  him. 
All  of  them  were  waiting  and  working  out  their  lives 
to  the  legitimate  end;  there  was  nothing  else  for  him  to 
do.  He  need  not  follow  instinct  or  profit  by  chance. 
He  was  a  man;  he  could  plan  and  reason. 

The  air  grew  balmy  and  some  big,  soft  clouds  swept 
across  the  moon.  The  Harvester  felt  the  dampness 
of  rising  dew,  and  went  to  the  cabin.  He  looked  at 
it  long  in  the  moonlight  and  told  himself  that  he  could 
see  how  much  the  plants,  vines,  and  ferns  had  grown 
since  the  previous  night.  Without  making  a  light,  he 
threw  himself  on  the  bed  in  the  outdoor  room,  and  lay 
looking  through  the  screening  at  the  lake  and  sky.  He 
was  working  his  brain  to  think  of  some  manner  in  which 
to  start  a  search  for  the  Dream  Girl  that  would  have 
some  probability  of  success  to  recommend  it,  but  he 
could  settle  on  no  feasible  plan.  At  last  he  fell  asleep, 
and  in  the  night  soft  rain  wet  his  face.  He  pulled  an 
oilcloth  sheet  over  the  bed,  and  lay  breathing  deeply  of 
the  damp,  perfumed  air  as  he  again  slept.  In  the  morn- 
ing brilliant  sunshine  awoke  him  and  he  arose  to  find  the 
earth  steaming. 

"If  ever  there  was  a  perfect  mushroom  day!"  he  said 
to  Belshazzar.  "We  must  hurry  and  feed  the  stock  and 
ourselves  and  gather  some.     They  mean  real  money." 


CHAPTER  VII 
The  Quest  of  the  Dream  Girl 

THE  Harvester  breakfasted,  fed  the  stock,  hitched 
Betsy  to  the  spring  wagon,  and  went  into  the 
dripping,  steamy  woods.  If  anyone  had  asked 
him  that  morning  concerning  his  idea  of  Heaven,  he 
never  would  have  dreamed  of  describing  a  place  of  gold- 
paved  streets,  crystal  pillars,  jewelled  gates,  and  thrones 
of  ivory.  These  things  were  beyond  the  man's  compre- 
hension and  he  would  not  have  admired  or  felt  at  home 
in  such  magnificence  if  it  had  been  materialized  for  him. 
He  would  have  told  you  that  a  floor  of  last  year's  brown 
leaves,  studded  with  myriad  flower  faces,  big,  bark- 
encased  pillars  of  a  thousand  years,  jewels  on  every 
bush,  shrub,  and  tree,  and  tilting  thrones  on  which 
gaudy  birds  almost  burst  themselves  to  voice  the  joy 
of  life,  while  their  bright-eyed  little  mates  peered  question- 

ingly  at  him  over  nest  rims he  would  have  told  you 

that  Medicine  Woods  on  a  damp,  sunny  May  morn- 
ing was  Heaven.  And  he  would  have  added  that  only 
one  angel,  tall  and  slender,  with  the  pink  of  health 
on  her  cheeks  and  the  dew  of  happiness  in  her  dark 
eyes,    was    necessary    to    enter    and    establish     glory. 

104 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  105 

Everything  spoke  to  him  that  morning,  but  the  Har- 
vester was  silent.  It  had  been  his  habit  to  talk  constantly 
to  Belshazzar,  Ajax,  his  work,  even  the  winds  and  per- 
fumes; it  had  been  his  method  of  dissipating  solitude, 
but  to-day  he  had  no  words,  even  for  these  dear  friends. 
He  only  opened  his  soul  to  beauty,  and  steadily  climbed 
the  hill  to  the  crest,  and  then  down  the  other  side  to  the 
rich,  half-shaded,  half-open  spaces,  where  big,  rough 
mushrooms  sprang  in  a  night  similar  to  the  one  just 
passed. 

He  could  see  them  awaiting  him  from  afar.  He  began 
work  with  rapid  fingers,  being  careful  to  break  off  the 
heads,  but  not  to  pull  up  the  roots.  When  four  heaping 
baskets  were  filled  he  cut  heavily  leaved  branches  to 
spread  over  them,  and  started  to  Onabasha.  As  usual, 
Belshazzar  rode  beside  him  and  questioned  the  Har- 
vester when  he  politely  suggested  to  Betsy  that  she 
make  a  little  haste. 

"Have  you  forgotten  that  mushrooms  are  perishable ?" 
he  asked.  "If  we  don't  get  these  to  the  city  all  woodsy 
and  fresh  we  can't  sell  them.  Wonder  where  we  can 
do  the  best?  The  hotels  pay  well.  Really,  the  biggest 
prices  could  be  had  by " 

Then  the  Harvester  threw  back  his  head  and  began 
to  laugh,  and  he  laughed,  and  he  laughed.  A  crow  on 
the  fence  joined  him,  and  a  kingfisher,  heading  for  Loon 
Lake,  and  then  Belshazzar  caught  the  infection. 

"Begorry!  The  very  idea!"  cried  the  Harvester. 
"'Heaven  helps  them  that  help  themselves.'     Now  you 


106  THE  HARVESTER 

just  watch  us  manoeuvre  for  assistance,  Belshazzar,  old 
boy!     Here  we  go!" 

Then  the  laugh  began  again.  It  continued  all  the 
way  to  Onabasha  and  even  into  the  city.  The  Harvester 
drove  through  the  most  prosperous  street  until  he  reached 
the  residence  district.  At  the  first  home  he  stopped, 
gave  the  lines  to  Belshazzar,  and,  taking  a  basket  of 
mushrooms,  went  up  the  walk  and  rang  the  bell. 

"All  groceries  should  be  delivered  at  the  backdoor," 
snapped  a  pert  maid,  before  he  had  time  to  say  a  word. 

The  Harvester  lifted  his  hat. 

"Will  you  kindly  tell  the  lady  of  the  house  that  I 
wish  to  speak  with  her?" 

"What  name,  please?" 

"I  want  to  show  her  some  fine  mushrooms,  freshly 
gathered,"  he  answered. 

How  she  did  it  the  Harvester  never  knew.  The 
first  thing  he  realized  was  that  the  door  had  closed  be- 
fore his  face,  and  the  basket  had  been  picked  deftly 
from  his  fingers  and  was  on  the  other  side.  After  a 
short  time  the  maid  returned. 

"What  do  you  want  for  them,  please?" 

The  last  thing  on  earth  the  Harvester  wanted  to  do 
was  to  part  with  those  mushrooms,  so  he  took  one  long, 
speculative  look  down  the  hall  and  named  a  price  he 
thought  would  be  prohibitive. 

"One  dollar  a  dozen." 

"How  many  are  there?" 

"I  count  them  as  I  sell  them.     I  do  not  know." 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  107 

The  door  closed  again.  Presently  it  opened  and  the 
maid  knelt  on  the  floor  before  him  and  counted  the 
mushrooms  one  by  one  into  a  dish  pan  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes brought  back  seven  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  The 
chagrined  Harvester,  feeling  like  a  thief,  put  the  money 
in  his  pocket,  and  turned  away. 

"I  was  to  tell  you,"  said  she,  "that  you  are  to  bring 
all  you  have  to  sell  here,  and  the  next  time  please  go 
to  the  kitchen  door." 

"Must  be  fond  of  mushrooms,"  said  the  disgruntled 
Harvester. 

"They  are  a  great  delicacy,  and  there  are  visitors." 
The  Harvester  ached  to  set  the  girl  to  one  side  and 
walk  through  the  house,  but  he  did  not  dare;  so  he  re- 
turned to  the  street,  whistled  to  Betsy  to  come,  and  went 
to  the  next  gate.  Here  he  hesitated.  Should  he  risk 
further  snubbing  at  the  front  door  or  go  back  at  once. 
If  he  did,  he  only  would  see  a  maid.  As  he  stood  an 
instant  debating,  the  door  of  the  house  he  just  had 
left  opened  and  the  girl  ran  after  him.  "If  you  have 
more,  we  will  take  them,"  she  called. 

The  Harvester  gasped  for  breath. 

"They  have  to  be  used  at  once,"  he  suggested. 

"  She  knows  that.     She  wants  to  treat  her  friends." 

"Well  she  has  got  enough  for  a  banquet,"  he  said. 
"I  —  I  don't  usually  sell  more  than  a  dozen  or  two  in 
one  place." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  can't  let  her  have  them  if  you 
have  more." 


108  THE  HARVESTER 

"Perhaps  I  have  orders  to  fill  for  regular  customers, " 
suggested  the  Harvester. 

"And  perhaps  you  haven't,"  said  the  maid.  "You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  not  to  let  people  who  are  willing 
to  pay  your  outrageous  prices  have  them.  It's  regular 
highway  robbery." 

"Possibly  that's  the  reason  I  decline  to  hold  up  one 
party  twice,"  said  the  Harvester  as  he  entered  the  gate 
and  went  up  the  walk  to  the  front  door. 

"You  should  be  taught  your  place,"  called  the  maid 
after  him. 

The  Harvester  again  rang  the  bell.  Another  maid 
opened  the  door,  and  once  more  he  asked  to  speak  with 
the  lady  of  the  house.  As  the  girl  turned,  a  handsome 
old  woman  in  cap  and  morning  gown  came  down  the 
stairs. 

"What  have  you  there?"  she  asked. 

The  Harvester  lifted  the  leaves  and  exposed  the 
musky,  crimpled,  big  mushrooms. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  in  delight.  "Indeed,  yes!  We  are 
very  fond  of  them.  I  will  take  the  basket,  and  divide 
with  my  sons.  You  are  sure  you  have  no  poisonous 
ones  among  them?" 

"Quite  sure,"  said  the  Harvester  faintly. 

"How  much  do  you  want  for  the  basket?" 

"They  are  a  dollar  a  dozen;  I  haven't  counted  them." 

"Dear  me!     Isn't  that  rather  expensive?" 

"It  is.  Very!"  said  the  Harvester.  "So  expensive 
that  most  people   don't  think  of  taking  over  a  dozen. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  109 

They  are  large  and  very  rich,  so  they  go  a  long 
way." 

"I  suppose  you  have  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  time 
hunting  them?  It  does  seem  expensive,  but  they  are 
fresh,  and  the  boys  are  so  fond  of  them.  I'm  not  often 
extravagant,  I'll  just  take  the  lot.     Sarah,  bring  a  pan." 

Again  the  Harvester  stood  and  watched  an  entire 
basket  counted  over  and  carried  away,  and  he  felt  the 
robber  he  had  been  called  as  he  took  the  money. 

At  the  next  house  he  had  learned  a  lesson.  He  carpeted 
a  basket  with  leaves  and  counted  out  a  dozen  and  a 
half  into  it,  leaving  the  remainder  in  the  wagon.  Three 
blocks  on  one  side  of  the  street  exhausted  his  store  and 
he  was  showered  with  orders.  He  had  not  seen  any 
one  that  even  resembled  a  dark-eyed  girl.  As  he  came 
from  the  last  house  a  big,  red  motor  shot  past  and  then 
suddenly  slowed  and  backed  beside  his  wagon. 

"What  in  the  name  of  sense  are  you  doing?"  demanded 
Doctor  Carey. 

"Invading  the  residence  district  of  Onabasha,"  said 
the  Harvester.  "Madam,  would  you  like  some  nice, 
fresh,  country  mushrooms?  I  guarantee  that  there  are 
no  poisonous  ones  among  them,  and  they  were  gathered 
this  morning.  Considering  their  rarity  and  the  difficult 
work  of  collecting,  they  are  exceedingly  low  at  my  price. 
I  am  offering  these  for  five  dollars  a  dozen,  madam, 
and  for  mercy  sake  don't  take  them  or  I'll  have  no  excuse 
to  go  to  the  next  house." 

The   doctor   stared,    then    understood,    and    began    to 


no  THE  HARVESTER 

laugh.  When  at  last  he  could  speak  he  said,  "David, 
I'll  bet  you  started  with  three  bushels  and  began  at  the 
head  of  this  street,  and  they  are  all  gone." 

"Put  up  a  good  one!"  said  the  Harvester.  "You 
win.  The  first  house  I  tried  they  ordered  me  to  the 
back  door,  took  a  market  basket  full  away  from  me 
by  force,  tried  to  buy  the  load,  and  I  didn't  see  any 
one  save  a  maid." 

The  doctor  lay  on  the  steering  gear  and  faintly  groaned. 

The  Harvester  regarded  him  sympathetically.  "Isn't 
it   a   crime?"   he   questioned.     "Mushrooms   are   no  go. 

I  can  see  that! or  rather  they  are  entirely  too  much 

of  a  go.  I  never  saw  anything  in  such  demand.  I 
must  seek  a  less  popular  article  for  my  purpose.  To- 
morrow look  out  for  me.  I  shall  begin  where  I  left  off 
to-day,  but  I  will  have  changed  my  product." 

"David,  for  pity  sake,"  peeped  the  doctor. 

"What  do  I  care  how  I  do  it,  so  I  locate  her?" 
superbly  inquired  the  Harvester. 

"But  you  won't  find  her!"  gasped  the  doctor. 

"I've  come  as  close  it  as  you  so  far,  anyway,"  said 
the  Harvester.  "Your  mushrooms  are  on  the  desk  in 
your  office." 

He  drove  slowly  up  and  down  the  streets  until  Betsy 
wabbled  on  her  legs.  Then  he  left  her  to  rest  and  walked 
until  he  wabbled;  and  by  that  time  it  was  dark,  so  he 
went  home. 

At  the  first  hint  of  dawn  he  was  at  work  the  follow- 
ing morning.     With   loaded   baskets   closely  covered,    he 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  in 

started  to  Onabasha,  and  began  where  he  had  quit  the 
day  before.  This  time  he  carried  a  small,  crudely- 
fashioned  bark  basket,  leaf-covered,  and  he  rang  at  the 
front  door  with  confidence. 

Every  one  seemed  to  have  a  maid  in  that  part  of  the 
city,  for  a  freshly  capped  and  aproned  girl  opened  the 
door. 

"Are  there  any  young  women  living  here?"  blandly 
inquired  the  Harvester. 

"What's  that  of  your  business?"  demanded  the 
maid. 

The  Harvester  flushed,  but  continued,  "I  am  offering 
something  especially  intended  for  young  women.  If 
there  are  none,  I  will  not  trouble  you." 

"There  are  several." 

"Will  you  please  ask  them  if  they  would  care  for 
bouquets  of  violets,  fresh  from  the  woods?" 

"How  much  are  they,  and  how  large  are  the  bunches?" 

"Prices  differ,  and  they  are  the  right  size  to  appear 
well.     They  had  better  see  for  themselves." 

The  maid  reached  for  the  basket,  but  the  Harvester 
drew  back. 

"I  keep  them  in  my  possession,"  he  said.  "You  may 
take  a  sample." 

He  lifted  the  leaves  and  drew  forth  a  medium-sized 
bunch  of  long-stemmed  blue  violets  with  their  leaves. 
The  flowers  were  fresh,  crisp,  and  strong  odours  of  the 
woods  arose  from  them. 

**0h!"  cried  the  maid.     "Oh,  how  lovely!" 


ii2  THE  HARVESTER 

She  hurried  away  with  them  and  returned  carrying 
a  purse. 

"I  want  two  more  bunches,"  she  said.  "How  much 
are  they?" 

"Are  the  girls  who  want  them  dark  or  fair?" 

"What  difference  does  that  make?" 

"I  have  blue  violets  for  blondes,  yellow  for  brunettes, 
and  white  for  the  others." 

"Well  I  never!  One  is  fair,  and  two  have  brown  hair 
and  blue  eyes." 

"One  blue  and  two  whites,"  said  the  Harvester  calmly, 
as  if  matching  women's  hair  and  eyes  with  flowers  were 
an  inherited  vocation.  "They  are  twenty  cents  a 
bunch." 

"Aha!"  he  chortled  to  himself  as  he  whistled  to  Betsy. 
"At  last  we  have  it.  There  are  no  dark-eyed  girls  here. 
Now  we  are  making  headway." 

Down  the  street  he  went,  with  varying  fortune,  but 
with  patience  and  persistence  at  every  house  he  at  last 
managed  to  learn  whether  there  was  a  dark-eyed  girl. 
There  did  not  seem  to  be  many.  Long  before  his  store 
of  yellow  violets  was  gone  the  last  blue  and  white  had 
disappeared.  But  he  calmly  went  on  asking  for  dark- 
eyed  girls,  and  explaining  that  all  the  blue  and  white 
were  taken,  because  fair  women  were  most  numerous. 

At  one  house  the  owner,  who  reminded  the  Harvester 
of  his  mother,  came  to  the  door.  He  uncovered  and  in 
his  suavest  tones  inquired  if  a  brunette  young  woman  lived 
there  and  if  she  would  like  a  nosegay  of  yellow  violets. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  113 

"Well  bless  my  soul!"  cried  she.  "What  is  this 
world  coming  to?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  there 
are  now  able-bodied  men  offering  at  our  doors,  flowers 
to  match  our  girls'  complexions?" 

"Yes  madam,"  said  the  Harvester  gravely,  "and 
also  selling  them  as  fast  as  he  can  show  them,  at  prices 
that  make  a  profit  very  well  worth  while.  I  had  an 
equal  number  of  blue  and  white,  but  I  see  the  dark 
girls  are  very  much  in  the  minority.  The  others  were 
gone  long  ago,  and  I  now  have  flowers  to  offer  brunettes 
only." 

"Well  forever  more!  And  you  don't  call  that  flddlin' 
business  for  a  big,  healthy,  young  man?" 

The  Harvester's  gay  laugh  was  infectious. 

"I  do  not,"  he  said.  "I  have  to  slart  as  soon  as  I 
can  see,  tramp  long  distances  in  wet  woods  and  gather 
the  violets  on  my  knees,  make  them  into  bunches,  and 
bring  them  here  in  water  to  keep  them  fresh.  I  have 
another  occupation.  I  only  kill  time  on  these,  but  I  would 
be  ashamed  to  tell  you  what  I  have  gotten  for  them  this 
morning." 

"Humph!  I'm  glad  to  hear  it!"  said  the  woman. 
"Shame  in  some  form  is  a  sign  of  grace.  I  have  no  use 
for  a  human  being  without  a  generous  supply  of  it. 
There  is  a  very  beautiful  dark-eyed  girl  in  the  house, 
and  I  will  take  two  bunches  for  her.  How  much  are 
they?" 

"I  have  only  three  remaining,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"Would  you  like  to  allow  her  to  make  her  own  selection?" 


ii4  THE  HARVESTER 

"When  I'm  giving  things  I  usually  take  my  choice.  I 
want  that,  and  that  one." 

"As  my  stock  is  so  nearly  out,  I'll  make  the  two  for 
twenty,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Won't  you  accept  the 
last  one  from  me,  because  you  remind  me  just  a  little 
of  my  mother?" 

"I  will  indeed,"  said  she.  "Thank  you  very  much! 
I  shall  love  to  have  them  as  dearly  as  any  of  the  girls. 
I  used  to  gather  them  when  I  was  a  child,  but  I  almost 
never  see  the  blue  ones  any  more,  and  I  don't  know  as 
I  ever  expected  to  see  a  yellow  violet  again  as  long  as  I 
live.     Where  did  you  get  them?" 

"In  my  woods,"  said  the  Harvester.  "You  see  I 
grow  several  members  of  the  Viola  pedata  family,  bird's 
foot,  snake,  and  wood  violet,  and  three  of  the  odorata, 
English,  marsh,  and  sweet,  for  our  big  drug  houses. 
They  use  the  flowers  in  making  delicate  tests  for  acids 
and  alkalies.  The  entire  plant,  flower,  seed,  leaf,  and 
root,  goes  into  different  remedies.  The  beds  seed  them- 
selves and  spread,  so  I  have  more  than  I  need  for  the 
chemists,  and  I  sell  a  few.  I  don't  use  the  white  and 
yellow  in  my  business;  I  just  grow  them  for  their  beauty. 
I  also  sell  my  surplus  lilies  of  the  valley.  Would  you 
like  to  order  some  of  them  for  your  house  or  more  violets 
for  to-morrow?" 

"Well  bless  my  soul!  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
lilies  of  the  valley  are  medicine?" 

The  Harvester  laughed. 

"I  grow  immense  beds  of  them  in  the  woods  on  the 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  115 

banks  of  Loon  Lake,"  he  said.  "They  are  the  convallaris 
majallis  of  the  drug  houses  and  I  scarcely  know  what 
the  weak-hearted  people  would  do  without  them.  I 
use  large  quantities  in  trade,  and  this  season  I  am  selling 
a  few  because  people  so  love  them." 

"Lilies   in  medicine;  well   dear  me!     Are  roses  good 
for  our  innards  too?" 

Then  the  Harvester  did  laugh. 
I  imagine  the  roses  you  know  go  into  perfumes 
mostly,"  he  answered.  "They  do  make  medicine  of 
Canadian  rock  rose  and  rose  bay,  laurel,  and  willow. 
I  grow  the  bushes,  but  they  are  not  what  you  would 
consider  roses." 

"I  wonder  now,"  said  the  woman  studying  the  Har- 
vester closely,  "if  you  are  not  that  queer  genius  I've 
heard  of,  who  spends  his  time  hunting  and  growing 
stuff  in  the  woods  and  people  call  him  the  Medicine 
Man." 

"I  strongly  suspect  madam,  I  am  that  man,"  said 
the  Harvester. 

"Well  bless  me!"  cried  she.  "Pve  always  wanted  to 
see  you  and  here  when  I  do,  you  look  just  like  anybody 
else.  I  thought  you'd  have  long  hair,  and  be  wild- 
eyed  and  ferocious.  And  your  talk  sounds  like  out  of 
a  book.     Well  that  beats  me!" 

"Me  too!"  said  the  Harvester,  lifting  his  hat.  "You 
don't  want  any  lilies  to-morrow,  then?" 

"Yes  I  do.  Medicine  or  no  medicine,  Pve  always 
liked   'em,   and   Pm  going  to  keep  on   liking  them.     If 


n6  THE  HARVESTER 

you  can  bring  me  a  good-sized  bunch  after  the  weak- 
kneed " 

"Weak-hearted,"  corrected  the  Harvester. 

"Well  'weak-hearted/  then;  it's  all  the  same  thing. 
If  you've  got  any  left,  as  I  was  saying,  you  can  fetch 
them  to  me  for  the  smell. " 

The  Harvester  laughed  all  the  way  down  town.  There 
he  went  to  Doctor  Carey's  office,  examined  a  directory, 
and  got  the  names  of  all  the  numbers  where  he  had  sold 
yellow  violets.  A  few  questions  when  the  doctor  came 
in  settled  all  of  them,  but  the  flower  scheme  was 
better.  Because  the  yellow  were  not  so  plentiful  as  the 
white  and  blue,  next  day  he  added  buttercups  and  cow- 
slips to  his  store  for  the  dark  girls.  When  he  had  rifled 
his  beds  for  the  last  time,  after  three  weeks  of  almost 
daily  trips  to  town,  and  had  paid  high  prices  to  small 
boys  he  set  searching  the  adjoining  woods  until  no  more 
flowers  could  be  found,  he  drove  from  the  outskirts  of 
the  city  one  day  toward  the  hospital,  and  as  he  stopped, 
down  the  street  came  Doctor  Carey  frantically  waving 
to  him.  As  the  big  car  slackened,  "Come  on  David, 
quick!     I've  seen  her!"  cried  the  doctor. 

The  Harvester  jumped  from  the  wagon,  threw  the 
lines  to  Belshazzar,  and  landed  in  the  panting  car. 

"For  Heaven's  sake  where?     Are  you  sure?" 

The  car  went  speeding  down  the  street.  A  policeman 
beckoned  and  cried  after  it. 

"It  won't  do  any  good  to  get  arrested,  Doc,"  cautioned 
the  Harvester. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  117 

"Now  right  along  here,"  panted  Doctor  Carey.  "Watch 
both  sides  sharply.  If  I  stop  you  jump  out,  and  tell  the 
blame  policemen  to  get  at  their  job.  The  party  they 
are  hired  to  find  is  right  under  their  noses." 

The  Harvester  began  to  perspire.  "Doc,  don't  you 
think  you  should  tell  me?  Maybe  she  is  in  some  store. 
Maybe  I  could  do  better  on  foot." 

"Shut  up!"  growled  the  doctor.  "I  am  doing  the 
best  I  know." 

He  hurried  up  the  street  for  blocks  and  back  again, 
and  at  last  stopped  before  a  large  store  and  went  in. 
When  he  returned  he  drove  to  the  hospital  and  to- 
gether they  entered  the  office.  There  he  turned  to  the 
Harvester. 

"It  isn't  so  hard  to  understand  you  now,  my  boy," 
he  said.  "Shades  of  Diana,  but  she'll  be  a  beauty  when 
she  gets  a  little  more  flesh  and  colour.  She  came  out 
of  Whitlaw's  and  walked  right  to  the  crossing.  I  almost 
could  have  touched  her,  but  I  didn't  notice.  Two  girls 
passed  before  me,  and  in  hurrying,  a  tall,  dark  one  knocked 
off  one  of  your  bunches  of  yellow  violets.  She  glanced 
at  it  and  laughed,  but  let  it  lay.  Then  your  girl  hesitated, 
stooped  and  picked  it  up.  The  crazy  policeman  yelled 
at  me  to  clear  the  crossing  and  it  didn't  hit  me  for  a 
half  block  how  tall  and  white  she  was  and  how  dark 
her  eyes  were.  I  was  just  thinking  about  her  picking 
up  the  flowers,  and  that  it  was  queer  for  her  to  do  it, 
when  like  a  brick  it  hit  me,  that's  David's  girl!  I  tried 
to  turn  around,  but  you  know  what  Main  Street  is  in 


u8  THE  HARVESTER 

the  middle  of  the  day.  And  those  idiots  of  policemen! 
They  ordered  me  on,  and  I  couldn't  turn  for  a  street  car 
coming,  so  I  called  to  one  of  them  that  the  girl  we  wanted 
was  down  the  street,  and  he  looked  at  me  like  an  addle- 
pate  and  said,  'What  girl?  Move  on  or  you'll  get 
in  a  jam  here.'  You  can  use  me  for  a  football  if  I 
don't  go  back  and  smash  him.  Paid  him  five  dollars 
myself  less  than  two  weeks  ago  to  keep  his  eyes  open. 
1  To  keep  his  eyes  open!"''  panted  the  doctor,  shaking 
his  fist  at  David.  "Yes  sir!  'To  keep  his  eyes  open!' 
And  he  motioned  for  things  to  come  along,  and  so  I 
lost  her  too." 

"I  think  we  had  better  go  back  to  the  street,"  said 
the  Harvester. 

"Oh,  I'd  been  back  and  forth  along  that  street  for 
nearly  an  hour  before  I  gave  up  and  came  here  to  see 
if  I  could  find  you,  and  we've  hunted  it  an  hour  more! 
What's  the  use?  She's  gone  for  this  time,  but  by  gum, 
I  saw  her!     And  she  was  worth  seeing!" 

"Did  she  appear  ill  to  you  ? " 

The  doctor  dropped  on  a  chair  and  threw  out  his  hands 
hopelessly. 

"This  was  awful  sudden,  David,"  he  said.  "I  was 
going  along  as  I  told  you,  and  I  noticed  her  stop  and 
thought  she  had  a  good  head  to  wait  a  second  instead 
of  running  in  before  me,  and  there  came  those  two  girls 
right  under  the  car  from  the  other  side.  I  only  had 
a  glimpse  of  her  as  she  stooped  for  the  flowers.  I  saw 
a  big  braid  of  hair,  but  I  was  half  a  block  away  before 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  119 

I  got  it  all  connected,  and  then  came  the  crush  in  the 
street,  and  I  was  blocked." 

The  doctor  broke  down  and  wiped  his  face  and  ex- 
pressed his  feelings  unrestrainedly. 

" Don't!"  said  the  Harvester  patiently.  "It's  no  use 
to  feel  so  badly,  Doc.  I  know  what  you  would  give  to 
have  found  her  for  me.  I  know  you  did  all  you  could. 
I  let  her  escape  me.  We  will  find  her  yet.  It's  glorious 
news  that  she's  in  the  city.  It  gives  me  heart  to  hear 
that.     Can't  you  just  remember  if  she  seemed  ill?" 

The  doctor  meditated. 

"She  wasn't  the  tallest  girl  I  ever  saw,"  he  said  slowly, 
"but  she  was  the  tallest  girl  to  be  pretty.  She  had  on  a 
white  waist  and  a  gray  skirt  and  black  hat.  Her  eyes 
and  hair  were  like  you  said,  and  she  was  plain,  white 
faced,  with  a  hue  that  might  possibly  be  natural,  and 
it  might  be  confinement  in  bad  light  and  air  and  poor 
food.  She  didn't  seem  sick,  but  she  isn't  well.  There 
is  something  the  matter  with  her,  but  it's  not  immediate 
or  dangerous.  She  appeared  like  a  flower  that  had  got 
a  little  moisture  and  sprouted  in  a  cellar." 

"You  saw  her  all  right!"  said  the  Harvester,  "and 
I  think  your  diagnosis  is  correct  too.  That's  the  way 
she  seemed  to  me.  I've  thought  she  needed  sun  and  air. 
I  told  the  South  Wind  so  the  other  day." 

"Why  you  blame  fool!"  cried  the  doctor.  "Is  this 
thing  going  to  your  head?  Say,  I  forgot!  There  is 
something  else.  I  traced  her  in  the  store.  She  was  at 
the  embroidery  counter  and  she  bought  some  silk.     If 


120  THE  HARVESTER 

she  ever  comes  again  the  clerk  is  going  to  hold  her  and 
telephone  me  or  get  her  address  if  she  has  to  steal  it.  Oh, 
we  are  getting  there!  We  will  have  her  pretty  soon  now. 
You  ought  to  feel  better  just  to  know  that  she  is  in  town 
and  that  I've  seen  her." 

"I  do!"  said  the  Harvester.     "Indeed  I  do!" 

"It  can't  be  much  longer,"  said  the  doctor.  "She's 
got  to  be  located  soon.  But  those  policemen!  I  wouldn't 
give  a  nickel  for  the  lot!  I'll  bet  she's  walked  over 
them  for  two  weeks.  If  I  were  you  I'd  discharge  the 
bunch.  They'd  be  peacefully  asleep  if  she  passed  them. 
If  they'd  let  me  alone,  I'd  have  had  her.  I  could  have 
turned  around  easily.  I've  been  in  dozens  of  closer 
places." 

"Don't  worry!  This  can't  last  much  longer.  She's 
of  and  in  the  city  or  she  wouldn't  have  picked  up  the 
flowers.     Doc,  are  you  sure  they  were  mine?" 

"Yes.  Half  the  girls  have  been  tricked  out  in  yours 
the  past  two  weeks.  I  can  spot  them  as  far  as  I  can 
see." 

"Dear  Lord,  that's  getting  close!"  said  the  Harvester 
intensely.     "Seems  as  if  the  violets  would  tell  her." 

"Now  cut  out  flowers  talking  and  the  South  Wind!" 
ordered  the  doctor.  "This  is  business.  The  violets 
prove  something  all  right,  though.  If  she  was  in  the 
country,  she  could  gather  plenty  herself.  She  is  working 
at  sewing  in  some  room  in  town,  either  over  a  store 
or  in  a  house.  If  she  hadn't  been  starved  for  flowers 
she  never  would  have  stopped  for  them  on  the  street. 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  121 

I  could  see  just  a  flash  of  hesitation,  but  she  wanted  them 
too  much.  David,  one  bouquet  will  go  in  water  and  be 
cared  for  a  week.  Man,  it's  getting  close  I  This  does 
seem  like  a  link." 

"Since  you  say  it,  possibly  I  dare  agree  with  you," 
said  the  Harvester. 

"How  near  are  you  through  with  that  canvass  of 
yours?" 

"About  three  fourths." 

"Well  Td  go  on  with  it.  After  all  we  have  got  to 
find  her  ourselves.     Those  senile  policemen!" 

"I  am  going  on  with  it;  you  needn't  worry  about 
that.  But  I've  got  to  change  to  other  flowers.  I've 
stripped  the  violet  beds.  There's  quite  a  crop  of  berries 
coming,  but  they  are  not  ripe  yet,  and  a  tragedy  to 
pick.  The  pond  lilies  are  just  beginning  to  open  by 
the  thousand.  The  lake  border*  is  blue -with  sweet-flag 
that  is  lovely  and  the  marsh  pale  gold  with  cowslips. 
The  ferns  are  prime  and  the  woods  solid  sheets  of  every 
colour  of  bloom.  I  believe  I'll  go  ahead  with  the  wild 
flowers." 

"I  would  too!     David,  you  do  feel  better,  don't  you?"« 

"I  certainly  do,  Doctor.  Surely  it  won't  be  long 
now!" 

The  Harvester  was  so  hopeful  that  In  whistled  and 
sang  on  the  return  to  Medicine  Woods,  and  that  night 
for  the  first  time  in  many  days  he  sat  long  over  a  candle- 
stick, and  took  a  farewell  peep  into  her  room  before  he 
went  to  bed. 


122  THE  HARVESTER 

The  next  day  he  worked  with  all  his  might  harvesting 
the  last  remnants  of  early  spring  herbs,  in  the  dry-room 
and  store-house,  and  on  furniture  and  candlesticks. 

Then  he  went  back  to  flower  gathering  and  every  day 
offered  bunches  of  exquisite  wood  and  field  flowers  and 
white  and  gold  water  lilies  from  door  to  door. 

Three  weeks  later  the  Harvester,  perceptibly  thin, 
pale,  and  worried  entered  the  office.  He  sank  into  a 
chair  and  groaned  wearily. 

"Isn't  this  the  bitterest  luck!"  he  cried.  "I've  fin- 
ished the  town.  I've  almost  walked  off  my  legs.  I've 
sold  flowers  by  the  million,  but  I've  not  had  a  sight  of 
her." 

"It's  been  almost  a  tragedy  with  me,"  said  the  doctor 
gloomily.  "I've  killed  two  dogs  and  grazed  a  baby, 
because  I  was  watching  the  sidewalks  instead  of  the 
street.     What  are  you  going  to  do  now?" 

"I  am  going  home  and  bring  up  the  work  to  the  July 
mark.  I  am  going  to  take  it  easy  and  rest  a  few  days 
so  I  can  think  more  clearly.  I  don't  know  what  I'll 
try  next.  I've  punched  up  the  depot  and  the  policemen 
§  again.  When  I  get  something  new  thought  out  I'll  let 
you  know." 

Then  he  began  emptying  his  pockets  of  money  and 
heaping  it  on  the  table,  small  coins,  bills,  big  and  little. 

"What  on  earth  is  that?" 

"That,"  said  the  Harvester,  giving  the  heap  a  shove 
of  contempt,  "that  is  the  price  of  my  pride  and  humilia- 
tion.    That  is  what  it  cost  people  who  allowed  me  to 


THE  QUEST  OF  THE  DREAM  GIRL  123 

cheek  my  way  into  their  homes  and  rob  them,  as  one 
maid  said,  for  my  own  purposes.  Doc,  where  on  earth 
does  all  the  money  come  from?  In  almost  every  house 
I  entered,  women  had  it  to  waste,  in  many  cases  to  throw 
away.  I  never  saw  so  much  paid  for  nothing  in  all  my 
life.     That  whole  heap  is  from  mushrooms  and  flowers." 

"What  are  you  piling  it  there  for?" 

"For  your  free  ward.  I  don't  want  a  penny  of  it.  I 
wouldn't  keep  it,  not  if  I  was  starving." 

"Why  David!  You  couldn't  compel  any  one  to  buy. 
You  offered  something  they  wanted,  and  they  paid  you 
what  you  asked." 

"Yes,  and  to  keep  them  from  buying,  and  to  make 
the  stuff  go  farther,  I  named  prices  to  shame  a  shark. 
When  I  think  of  that  mushroom  deal  I  can  feel  my 
face  burn.  I've  made  the  search  I  wanted  to,  and  I 
am  satisfied  that  I  can't  find  her  that  way.  I  have 
kept  up  my  work  at  home  between  times.  I  am  not 
out  anything  but  my  time,  and  it  isn't  fair  to  plunder 
the  city  to  pay  that.  Take  that  cussed  money  and  put 
it  where  I'll  never  see  or  hear  of  it.  Do  anything  you 
please,  except  to  ask  me  ever  to  profit  by  a  cent.  When 
I  wash  my  hands  after  touching  it  for  the  last  time 
maybe  I'll  feel  better." 

"You  are  a  fanatic!" 

"If  getting  rid  of  that  is  being  a  fanatic,  I  am  proud  of 
the  title.     You  can't  imagine  what  I've  been  through!" 

"Can't  I  though?"  laughed  the  doctor.  "In  work 
of  that  kind  you  get  into  every  variety  of  place;   and 


i24  THE  HARVESTER 

some  of  it  is  new  to  you.  Never  mind!  No  one  can 
contaminate  you.  It  is  the  law  that  only  a  man  can 
degrade  himself.  Knowing  things  will  not  harm  you. 
Doing    them    is    a    different   matter.     What   you    know 

will  be  a  protection.     What  you  do  ruins if  it  is 

wrong.  You  are  not  harmed,  you  are  only  disgusted. 
Think  it  over,  and  in  a  few  days  come  back  and  get 
your  money.  It  is  strictly  honest.  You  earned  every 
cent  of  it." 

"If  you  ever  speak  of  it  again  or  force  it  on  me  I'll 
take  it  home  and  throw  it  into  the  lake." 

He  went  after  Betsy  and  slowly  drove  to  Medicine 
Woods.  Belshazzar,  on  the  seat  beside  him,  recognized 
a  silent,  disappointed  master  and  whimpered  as  he  rubbed 
the  Harvester's  shoulder  to  attract  his  attention. 

"This  is  tough  luck,  old  boy,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"I  had  such  hopes  and  I  worked  so  hard.  I  suffered 
in  the  flesh  for  every  hour  of  it,  and  I  failed.  Oh  but 
I  hate  the  word!  If  I  knew  where  she  is  right  now,  Bel, 
I'd  give  anything  I've  got.  But  there's  no  use  to  wail 
and  get  sorry  for  myself.  That's  against  the  law  of 
common  decency.  I'll  take  a  swim,  sleep  it  off,  straighten 
up  the  herbs  a  little,  and  go  at  it  again,  old  fellow;  that's 
a  man's  way.  She's  somewhere,  and  she's  got  to  be 
found,  no  matter  what  it  costs." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
Belshazzar's  Record  Point 

THE  Harvester  set  the  neglected  cabin  in  order; 
then  he  carefully  and  deftly  packed  all  his  dried 
herbs,  barks,  and  roots.  Next  came  carrying 
the  couch  grass,  wild  alum,  and  soapwort  into  the  store- 
room. Then  followed  July  herbs.  He  first  went  to  his 
beds  of  foxglove,  because  the  tender  leaves  of  the  second 
year  should  be  stripped  from  them  at  flowering  time,  and 
that  usually  began  two  weeks  earlier;  but  his  bed  lay  in 
a  shaded,  damp  location  and  the  tall  bloom  stalks  were 
only  in  half  flower,  their  pale  lavender  making  an  exquisite 
picture.  It  paid  to  collect  those  leaves,  so  the  Harvester 
hastily  stripped  the  amount  he  wanted. 

Yarrow  was  beginning  to  bloom  and  he  gathered  as 
much  as  he  required,  taking  the  whole  plant.  That  only 
brought  a  few  cents  a  pound,  but  it  was  used  entire,  so 
the  weight  made  it  worth  while. 

Catnip  tops  and  leaves  were  also  ready.  As  it  grew 
in  the  open  in  dry  soil  and  the  beds  had  been  weeded  that 
spring,  he  could  gather  great  arm  loads  of  it  with  a  sickle, 
but  he  had  to  watch  the  swarming  bees.  He  left  the 
male  fern  and  mullein  until  the  last  for  different  reasons. 

1 25 


126  THE  HARVESTER 

On  the  damp,  cool,  rocky  hillside,  beneath  deep  shade 
of  big  forest  trees,  grew  the  ferns,  their  long,  graceful 
fronds  waving  softly.  Tree  toads  sang  on  the  cool  rocks 
beneath  them,  chewinks  nested  under  gnarled  roots 
among  them,  rose-breasted  grosbeaks  sang  in  grape-vines 
clambering  over  the  thickets,  and  Singing  Water  ran 
close  beside.  So  the  Harvester  left  digging  these  roots 
until  nearly  the  last,  because  he  so  disliked  to  disturb 
the  bed.  He  could  not  have  done  it  if  he  had  not  been 
forced.  All  of  the  demand  for  his  fern  never  could  be 
supplied.  Of  his  products  none  was  more  important  to 
the  Harvester  because  this  formed  the  basis  of  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  reliable  remedies  for  little  children.  The 
fern  had  to  be  gathered  with  especial  care,  deteriorated 
quickly,  and  no  staple  was  more  subject  to  adulteration. 

So  he  kept  his  bed  intact,  lifted  the  roots  at  the  proper 
time,  carefully  cleaned  without  washing,  rapidly  dried 
in  currents  of  hot  air,  and  shipped  them  in  bottles  to 
the  trade.  He  charged  and  received  fifteen  cents  a  pound, 
where  careless  and  indifferent  workers  got  ten. 

On  the  banks  of  Singing  Water,  at  the  head  of  the  fern 
bed,  the  Harvester  stood  under  a  gray  beech  tree  and 
looked  down  the  swaying  length  of  delicate  green.  He 
was  lean  and  rapidly  bronzing,  for  he  seldom  remembered 
a  head  covering  because  he  loved  the  sweep  of  the  wind 
in  his  hair. 

"I  hate  to  touch  you,"  he  said.  "How  I  wish  she 
could  see  you  before  I  begin.  If  she  did,  probably  she 
would  say  it  was  a  sin,  and  then  I  never  could  muster 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       127 

courage  to  do  it  at  all.  I'd  give  a  small  farm  to  know 
if  those  violets  revived  for  her.  I  was  crazy  to  ask 
Doc  if  they  were  wilted,  but  I  hated  to.  If  they  were 
from  the  ones  I  gathered  that  morning  they  should  have 
been  all  right." 

A  tree  toad  dared  him  to  come  on;  a  chipmunk  grew 
saucy  as  the  Harvester  bent  to  an  unloved  task.  If  he 
stripped  the  bed  as  closely  as  he  dared  and  not  injure 
it,  he  could  not  fill  half  his  orders;  so,  deftly  and  with 
swift,  skilful  fingers  and  an  earnest  face,  he  worked. 
Belshazzar  came  down  the  hill  on  a  rush,  nose  to  earth  and 
began  hunting  among  the  plants.  He  never  could  un- 
derstand why  his  loved  master  was  so  careless  as  to  go 
to  work  before  he  had  pronounced  it  safe.  When  the 
fern  bed  was  finished,  the  Harvester  took  time  to  make 
a  trip  to  town,  but  there  was  no  word  waiting  him;  so 
he  went  to  the  mullein.  It  lay  on  a  sunny  hillside  beyond 
the  couch  grass  and  joined  a  few  small  fields,  the  only 
cleared  land  of  the  six  hundred  acres  of  Medicine  Woods. 
Over  rocks  and  little  hills  and  hollows  spread  the  pale, 
grayish-yellow  of  the  green  leaves,  and  from  five  to  seven 
feet  arose  the  flower  stems,  while  the  entire  earth  between 
was  covered  with  rosettes  of  young  plants.  Belshazzar 
went  before  to  give  warning  if  any  big  rattlers  curled 
in  the  sun  on  the  hillside,  and  after  him  followed  the 
Harvester  cutting  leaves  in  heaps.  That  was  warm 
work  and  he  covered  his  head  with  a  floppy  old  straw  hat, 
with  wet  grass  in  the  crown,  and  stopped  occasionally 
to  rest. 


128  THE  HARVESTER 

He  loved  that  yellow-faced  hillside.  Because  so  much 
of  his  reaping  lay  in  the  shade  and  commonly  his  feet 
sank  in  dead  leaves  and  damp  earth,  the  change  was 
a  rest.  He  cheerfully  stubbed  his  toes  on  rocks,  and 
endured  the  heat  without  complaint.  It  appeared  to 
him  as  if  a  member  of  every  species  of  butterfly  he  knew 
wavered  down  the  hillside.  There  were  golden-brown 
danais,  with  their  black-striped  wings,  jetty  troilus  with 
an  attempt  at  trailers,  big  asterias,  velvety  black  with 
longer  trails  and  wide  bands  of  yellow  dots.  Coenia 
were  most  numerous  of  all  and  to  the  Harvester  wonder- 
fully attractive  in  rich,  subdued  colours  with  a  wealth  of 
markings  and  eye  spots.  Many  small  moths,  with  trans- 
parent wings  and  noses  red  as  blood,  flashed  past  him 
hunting  pollen.  Goldfinches,  intent  on  thistle  bloom, 
wavered  through  the  air  trailing  mellow,  happy  notes 
behind  them,  and  often  a  humming-bird  visited  the 
mullein.  On  the  lake  wild  life  splashed  and  chattered 
incessantly,  and  sometimes  the  Harvester  paused  and  stood 
with  arms  heaped  with  leaves,  to  interpret  some  unusually 
appealing  note  of  pain  or  anger  or  some  very  attractive 
melody.  The  red-wings  were  swarming,  the  killdeers 
busy,  and  he  thought  of  the  Dream  Girl  and  smiled. 

"I  wonder  if  she  would  like  this,"  he  mused. 

When  the  mullein  leaves  were  deep  on  the  trays  of  the 
dry-house  he  began  on  the  bloom  and  that  was  a  task 
he  loved.  Just  to  lay  off  the  beds  in  swaths  and  follow 
them,  deftly  picking  the  stamens  and  yellow  petals  from 
the  blooms.     These  he  would   dry  speedily  in  hot  air, 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       129 

bottle,  and  send  at  once  to  big  laboratories.  The  listed 
price  was  seventy-five  cents  a  pound,  but  the  beautiful 
golden  bottles  of  the  Harvester  always  brought  more. 
The  work  was  worth  while,  and  he  liked  the  location  and 
gathering  of  this  particular  crop:  for  these  reasons  he 
always  left  it  until  the  last,  and  then  revelled  in  the  gold 
of  sunshine,  bird,  butterfly,  and  flower.  Several  days 
were  required  to  harvest  the  mullein  and  during  the 
time  the  man  worked  with  nimble  fingers,  while  his  brain 
was  intensely  occupied  with  the  question  of  what  to  do 
next  in  his  search  for  the  Girl 

When  the  work  was  finished,  he  went  to  the  deep  wood 
to  take  a  peep  at  acres  of  thrifty  ginseng,  and  he  was 
satisfied  as  he  surveyed  the  big  bed.  Long  years  he 
had  laboured  diligently;  soon  came  the  reward.  He 
had  not  realized  it  before,  but  as  he  studied  the  situation 
he  saw  that  he  either  must  begin  this  harvest  at  once  or 
employ  help.  If  he  waited  until  September  he  could  not 
gather  one  third  of  the  crop  alone. 

"But  the  roots  will  weigh  less  if  I  take  them  now,"  he 
argued,  "and  I  can  work  at  nothing  in  comfort  until 
I  have  located  her.  I  will  go  on  with  my  search  and 
allow  the  ginseng  to  grow  that  much  heavier.  What 
a  picture!  It  is  folly  to  disturb  this  now,  for  I  will  lose 
the  seed  of  every  plant  I  dig,  and  that  is  worth  almost  as 
much  as  the  root.  It  is  a  question  whether  I  want  to 
furnish  the  market  with  seed,  and  so  raise  competition 
for  my  bed.  I  think,  be  jabbers,  that  I'll  wait  for  this 
harvest  until  the  seed  is  ripe,  and  then  bury  part  of  a 


130  THE  HARVESTER 

head  where  I  dig  a  root,  as  the  Indians  did.  That's 
the  idea!  The  more  I  grow,  the  more  money;  and  I 
may  need  considerable  for  her.  One  thing  I'd  like  to 
know:  Are  these  plants  cultivated?  All  the  books  quote 
the  wild  at  highest  rates  and  all  I've  ever  sold  was  wild. 
The  start  grew  here  naturally.  What  I  added  from  the 
surrounding  country  was  wild,  but  through  and  among 
it  Fve  sown  seed  I  bought,  and  I've  tended  it  with  every 
care.  But  this  is  deep  wood  and  wild  conditions.  I 
think  I  have  a  perfect  right  to  so  label  it.     I'll  ask  Doc. 

And  another  thing I'll  go  through  the  woods  west 

of  Onabasha  where  I  used  to  find  ginseng,  and  see  if  I 
can  get  a  little  and  then  take  the  same  amount  of  plants 
grown  here,  and  make  a  test.  That  way  I  can  discover 
any  difference  before  I  go  to  market.  This  is  my  gold 
mine,  and  that  point  is  mighty  important  to  me,  so  I'll 
go  this  very  day.  I  used  to  find  it  in  the  woods  northeast 
of  town  and  on  the  land  Jameson  bought,  west.  Wonder 
if  he  lives  there  yet.  He  should  have  died  of  pure  mean- 
ness long  ago.  I'll  drive  to  the  river  and  hunt  along 
the  bank." 

Early  the  following  morning  the  Harvester  went  to 
Onabasha  and  stopped  at  the  hospital  for  news.  Finding 
none,  he  went  through  town  and  several  miles  into  the 
country  on  the  other  side,  to  a  piece  of  lowland  lying 
along  the  river  bank,  where  he  once  had  found  and 
carried  home  to  reset  a  big  bed  of  ginseng.  If  he  could 
get  only  a  half  pound  of  roots  from  there  now,  they  would 
serve  his  purpose.     He  went  down  the  bank,  Belshazzar 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       131 

at  his  heels,  and  at  last  found  the  place.  Many  trees 
had  been  cut,  but  there  remained  enough  for  shade; 
the  fields  bore  the  ragged,  unattractive  appearance  of 
old.  The  Harvester  smiled  grimly  as  he  remembered 
that  the  man  who  lived  there  once  had  charged  him  for 
damage  he  might  do  to  trees  in  driving  across  his  woods, 
and  boasted  to  his  neighbours  that  a  young  fool  was  pay- 
ing for  the  privilege  of  doing  his  grubbing.  If  Jameson 
had  known  what  the  roots  he  was  so  anxious  to  dispose 
of  brought  a  pound  on  the  market  at  that  time,  he  would 
have  been  insane  with  anger.  So  the  Harvester's  eyes 
were  dancing  with  fun  and  a  wry  grin  twisted  his  lips  as 
he  clambered  over  the  banks  of  the  recently  dredged 
river,  and  looked  at  its  pitiful  condition  and  straight, 
muddy  flow. 

"Appears  to  match  the  remainder  of  the  Jameson 
property,"  he  said.  "I  don't  know  who  he  is  or  where  he 
came  from,  but  he's  no  farmer.  Perhaps  he  uses  this 
land  to  corral  the  stock  he  buys  until  he  can  sell  it  again." 

He  went  down  the  embankment  and  began  to  search 
for  the  location  where  he  formerly  had  found  the  ginseng. 
When  he  came  to  the  place  he  stood  amazed,  for  from 
seed,  roots,  and  plants  he  had  missed,  the  growth  had 
sprung  up  and  spread,  so  that  at  a  rapid  estimate  the 
Harvester  thought  it  contained  at  least  five  pounds, 
allowing  for  what  it  would  shrink  on  account  of  being 
gathered  early.  He  hesitated  an  instant,  and  thought 
of  coming  later;  but  the  drive  was  long  and  the  loss 
would  not  amount  to  enough  to  pay  for  a  second  trip. 


132  THE  HARVESTER 

About  taking  it,  he  never  thought  at  all.  He  once  had 
permission  from  the  owner  to  dig  all  the  shrubs,  bushes, 
and  weeds  he  desired  from  that  stretch  of  woods,  and  had 
paid  for  possible  damages  that  might  occur.  As  he  bent 
to  the  task  there  did  come  a  fleeting  thought  that  the 
patch  was  weedless  and  in  unusual  shape  for  wild  stuff. 
Then,  with  swift  strokes  of  his  light  mattock,  he  lifted 
the  roots,  crammed  them  into  his  sack,  whistled  to  Bel- 
shazzar,  and  going  back  to  the  wagon,  drove  away. 
Reaching  home  he  washed  the  ginseng,  and  spread  it  on 
a  tray  to  dry.  The  first  time  he  wanted  the  mattock 
he  realized  that  he  had  left  it  lying  where  he  had  worked. 
It  was  an  implement  that  he  had  directed  a  blacksmith 
to  fashion  to  meet  his  requirements.  No  store  contained 
anything  half  so  useful  to  him.  He  had  worked  with  it 
for  years  and  it  just  suited  him,  so  there  was  nothing  to 
do  but  go  back.  Betsy  was  too  tired  to  return  that 
day,  so  he  planned  to  dig  his  ginseng  with  something 
else,  finish  his  work  the  following  morning,  and  get  the 
mattock  in  the  afternoon. 

"It's  like  a  knife  you've  carried  for  years,  or  a  gun," 
muttered  the  Harvester.  "I  actually  don't  know  how 
to  get  along  without  it.  What  made  me  so  careless  I 
can't  imagine.  I  never  before  in  my  life  did  a  trick  like 
that.  I  wonder  if  I  hurried  a  little.  I  certainly  was 
free  to  take  it.  He  always  wanted  the  stuff  dug  up.  Of 
all  the  stupid  tricks,  Belshazzar,  that  was  the  worst. 
Now  Betsy  and  a  half  day  of  wasted  time  must  pay  for 
my  carelessness.     Since  I   have  to  go,   I'll  look  a  little 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       133 

farther.  Maybe  there  is  more.  Those  wooqs  used  to 
be  full  of  it." 

According  to  this  programme,  the  next  afternoon  the 
Harvester  again  walked  down  the  embankment  of  the 
mourning  river  and  through  the  ragged  woods  to  the 
place  where  the  ginseng  had  been.  He  went  forward, 
stepping  lightly,  as  men  of  his  race  had  walked  the  forest 
for  ages,  swerving  to  avoid  boughs,  and  looking  straight 
ahead.  Contrary  to  his  usual  custom  of  coming  to  heel 
in  a  strange  wood,  Belshazzar  suddenly  darted  around  the 
man  and  took  the  path  they  had  followed  the  previous 
day.  The  animal  was  performing  his  office  in  life;  he 
had  heard  or  scented  something  unusual.  The  Harvester 
knew  what  that  meant.  He  looked  inquiringly  at  the 
dog,  glanced  around,  and  then  at  the  earth.  Belshazzar 
proceeded  noiselessly  at  a  rapid  pace  over  the  leaves. 
Suddenly  the  master  saw  the  dog  stop  in  a  stiff  point. 
Lifting  his  feet  lightly  and  straining  his  eyes  before 
him,  the  Harvester  passed  a  spice  thicket  and  came  in 
line. 

For  one  second  he  stood  as  rigid  as  Belshazzar.  The 
next  his  right  arm  shot  upward  full  length,  and  began 
describing  circles,  his  open  palm  heavenward,  and  into 
his  face  leapt  a  glorified  expression  of  exultation.  Face 
down  in  the  rifled  ginseng  bed  lay  a  sobbing  girl.  Her 
frame  was  long  and  slender,  a  thick  coil  of  dark  hair 
bound  her  head.  A  second  more  and  the  Harvester  bent 
and  softly  pitted  Belshazzar's  head.  The  beast  broke 
point  and  looked  up.     The  man  caught  the  dog's  chin 


134  THE  HARVESTER 

in  a  caressing  grip,  again  touched  his  head,  moved  sound- 
less lips,  and  waved  toward  the  prostrate  figure.  The 
dog  hesitated.  The  Harvester  made  the  same  motions. 
Belshazzar  softly  stepped  over  the  leaves,  passed  around 
the  feet  of  the  girl,  and  paused  beside  her,  nose  to  earth, 
softly  sniffing. 

In  one  moment  she  came  swiftly  to  a  sitting  posture. 
"Oh ! "  she  cried  in  a  spasm  of  fright. 
Belshazzar  reached  an  investigating  nose  and  wagged 
an  eager  tail. 

"Why  you  are  a  nice  friendly  dog!"  said  the  trembling 
voice. 

He  immediately  verified  the  assertion  by  offering  his 

nose  for  a  kiss.     The  girl  timidly  laid  a  hand  on  his  head. 

"Heaven   knows   I'm   lonely  enough   to   kiss   a   dog," 

she  said,  "but  suppose  you  belong  to  the  man  who  stole 

my  ginseng,  and  then  ran  away  so  fast  he  forgot  his 

his  piece  he  digged  with." 
Belshazzar  pressed  closer. 

"I  am  just  killed,  and  I  don't  care  whose  dog  you  are," 
sobbed  the  girl. 

She  threw  her  arms  around  Belshazzar' s  neck  and  laid 
her  white  face  against  his  satiny  shoulder.  The  Harvester 
could  endure  no  more.  He  took  a  step  forward,  his  face 
convulsed  with  pain. 

"Please  don't!"  he  begged.  "I  took  your  ginseng. 
I'll  bring  it  back  to-morrow.  There  wasn't  more  than 
twenty-five  or  thirty  dollars'  worth.  It  doesn't  amount 
to  one  tear." 


Heaven  knows  I'm  lonely  enough  to  kiss  a 
dog,'  she  said  " 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       135 

The  girl  arose  so  quickly,  the  Harvester  could  not  see 
how  she  did  it.  With  a  startled  fright  on  her  face,  and  the 
dark  eyes  swimming,  she  turned  to  him  in  one  long  look. 
Words  rolled  from  the  lips  of  the  man  in  a  jumble.  Be- 
hind the  tears  there  was  a  dull,  expressionless  blue  in  the 
girl's  eyes  and  her  face  was  so  white  that  it  appeared 
blank.  He  began  talking  before  she  could  speak,  in  an 
effort  to  secure  forgiveness  without  condemnation. 

"You  see,  I  grow  it  for  a  living  on  land  I  own,  and- I've 
always  gathered  all  there  was  in  the  country  and  no  one 
cared.  There  never  was  enough  in  one  place  to  pay,  and 
no  other  man  wanted  to  spend  the  time,  and  so  I've  al- 
ways felt  free  to  take  it.  Every  one  knew  I  did,  and  no 
one  ever  objected  before.  Once  I  paid  Henry  Jameson 
for  the  privilege  of  cleaning  it  from  these  woods.  That 
was  six  or  seven  years  ago,  and  it  didn't  occur  to  me  that 
I  wasn't  at  liberty  to  dig  what  has  grown  since.  I'll 
bring  it  back  at  once,  and  pay  you  for  the  shrinkage  from 
gathering  it  too  early.  There  won't  be  much  over  six 
pounds  when  it's  dry.  Please,  please  don't  feel  badly. 
Won't  you  trust  me  to  return  it,  and  make  good  the 
damage  I've  done?" 

The  face  of  the  Harvester  was  eager  and  his  tones 
appealing,  as  he  leaned  forward  trying  to  make  her 
understand. 

"Certainly!"  said  the  Girl  as  she  bent  to  pat  the  dog, 
while  she  dried  her  eyes  under  cover  of  the  movement. 
"Certainly!     It  can  make  no  difference!" 

But  as  the  Harvester  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  she 


136  THE  HARVESTER 

suddenly  straightened  to  full  height  and  looked  straight 
at  him. 

"Oh  what  is  the  use  to  tell  a  pitiful  lie!"  she  cried. 
"It  does  make  a  difference!  It  makes  all  the  difference 
in  the  world!  I  need  that  money!  I  need  it  unspeak- 
ably.    I  owe  a  debt  I  must  pay.     What what  did  I 

understand  you  to  say  ginseng  is  worth?" 

"If  you  will  take  a  few  steps,"  said  the  Harvester,  "and 
make  yourself  comfortable  on  this  log  in  the  shade,  I  will 
tell  you  all  I  know  about  it." 

The  girl  walked  swiftly  to  the  log  indicated,  seated 
herself,  and  waited.  The  Harvester  followed  to  a  re- 
spectful distance. 

"I  can't  tell  to  an  ounce  what  wet  roots  would  weigh," 
he  said  as  easily  as  he  could  command  his  voice  to  speak, 
with  the  heart  in  him  beating  wildly,  "and  of  course 
they  lose  greatly  in  drying;  but  I've  handled  enough  that 
I  know  the  weight  I  carried  home  will  come  to  six  pounds 
at  the  very  least.  Then  you  must  figure  on  some  loss, 
because  I  dug  this  before  it  really  was  ready.  It  does 
not  reach  full  growth  until  September,  and  if  it  is  taken 
too  soon  there  is  a  decrease  in  weight.  I  will  make  that 
up  to  you  when  I  return  it." 

The  troubled  eyes  were  gazing  on  his  face  intently, 
and  the  Harvester  studied  them  as  he  talked. 

"You  would  think,  then,  there  would  be  all  of  six 
pounds?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester,  "closer  eight.  When  I 
replace  the  shrinkage  there  is  bound  to  be  over  seven." 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       137 

"And  how  much  did  I  understand  you  to  say  it  brought 
a  pound?" 

"That  all  depends,"  answered  he.  "If  you  cure  it 
yourself,  and  dry  it  too  much,  you  lose  in  weight.  If 
you  carry  it  in  a  small  lot  to  the  druggists  of  Onabasha, 
probably  you  will  not  get  over  five  dollars  for  it." 

"Five?" 

It  was  a  startled  cry. 

"How  much  did  you  expect?"  asked  the  Harvester 
gently. 

"Uncle  Henry  said  he  thought  he  could  get  fifty  cents 
a  pound  for  all  I  could  find." 

"If  your  Uncle  Henry  has  learned  at  last  that  ginseng 
is  a  salable  article  he  should  know  something  about  the 
price  also.  Will  you  tell  me  what  he  said,  and  how  you 
came  to  think  of  gathering  roots  for  the  market?" 

"There  were  men  talking  beneath  the  trees  one  Sun- 
day afternoon  about  old  times  and  hunting  deer,  and 
they  spoke  of  people  who  made  money  long  ago  gathering 
roots  and  barks,  and  thev  mentioned  one  man  who  lived 
by  it  yet." 

"Was  his  name  Langston?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  because  I  liked  the  name.  I  was 
so  eager  to  earn  something,  and  I  can't  leave  here  just 
now  because  Aunt  Molly  is  very  ill,  so  the  thought  came 
that  possibly  I  could  gather  stuff  worth  money,  after 
my  work  was  finished.  I  went  out  and  asked  questions. 
They  said  nothing  brought  enough  to  make  it  pay  any 
one,  except  this  ginseng  plant,  and  the  Langston  man 


138  THE  HARVESTER 

almost  had  stripped  the  country.  Then  uncle  said  he 
used  to  get  stuff  here,  and  he  might  have  got  some  of 
that.  I  asked  what  it  was  like,  so  they  told  me  and  I 
hunted  until  I  found  that,  and  it  seemed  a  quantity  to 
me.  Of  course  I  didn't  know  it  had  to  be  dried.  Uncle 
took  a  root  I  dug  to  a  store,  and  they  told  him  that  it 
wasn't  much  used  any  more,  but  they  would  give  him 
fifty  cents  a  pound  for  it.  What  makes  you  think  you 
can  get  five  dollars?" 

"With  your  permission,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  seated  himself  on  the  log,  drew  from  his  pocket 
an  old  pamphlet,  and  spreading  it  before  her,  ran  a  pencil 
along  the  line  of  a  list  of  schedule  prices  for  common 
drug  roots  and  herbs.  Because  he  understood,  his  eyes 
were  very  bright,  and  his  voice  a  trifle  crisp.  A  latent 
anger  springing  in  his  breast  was  a  good  curb  for  his 
emotions.  He  was  closely  acquainted  with  all  of  the 
druggists  of  Onabasha,  and  he  knew  that  not  one  of  them 
had  offered  less  than  standard  prices  for  ginseng. 

"The  reason  I  think  so,"  he  said  gently,  "is  because 
growing  it  is  the  largest  part  of  my  occupation,  and  it  was 
a  staple  with  my  father  before  me.  I  am  David  Langston, 
of  whom  you  heard  those  men  speak.  Since  I  was  a 
very  small  boy  I  have  lived  by  collecting  herbs  and  roots, 
and  I  get  more  for  ginseng  than  anything  else.  Very 
early  I  tired  of  hunting  other  people's  woods  for  herbs, 
so  I  began  transplanting  them  to  my  own.  I  moved 
that  bed  out  there  seven  years  ago.  What  you  found  has 
grown  since  from  roots  I  overlooked  and  seeds  that  fell 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       139 

at  that  time.     Now  do  you  think  I   am  enough  of  an 
authority  to  trust  my  word  on  the  subject?" 

There  was  not  a  change  of  expression  on  her  white 
face. 

"You  surely  should  know,"  she  said  wearily,  "and 
you  could  have  no  possible  object  in  deceiving  me.  Please 
go  on." 

"Any  country  boy  or  girl  can  find  ginseng,  gather, 
wash,  and  dry  it,  and  get  five  dollars  a  pound.  I  can 
return  yours  to-morrow  and  you  can  cure  and  take  it 
to  a  druggist  I  will  name  you,  and  sell  for  that.  But  if 
you  will  allow  me  to  make  a  suggestion,  you  can  get 
more.  Your  roots  are  now  on  the  trays  of  an  evaporating 
house.  They  will  dry  to  the  proper  degree  desired  by 
the  trade,  so  that  they  will  not  lose  an  extra  ounce  in 
weight,  and  if  I  send  them  with  my  stuff  to  big  whole- 
sale houses  I  deal  with,  they  will  be  graded  with  the 
finest  wild  ginseng.  It  is  worth  more  than  the  culti- 
vated and  you  will  get  closer  eight  dollars  a  pound  for 
it  than  five.  There  is  some  speculation  in  it,  and  the 
market  fluctuates:  but,  as  a  rule,  I  sell  for  the  highest 
price  the  drug  brings,  and,  at  times  when  the  season  is 
very  diy,  I  set  my  own  prices.  Shall  I  return  yours  or 
may  I  cure  and  sell  it,  and  bring  you  the  money?" 

"How  much  trouble  would  that  make  you?" 

"None.  The  work  of  digging  and  washing  is  already 
finished.  All  that  remains  is  to  weigh  it  and  make  a 
memorandum  of  the  amount  when  I  sell.  I  should  very 
much  like  to  do  it.     It  would  be  a  comfort  to  see  the 


140  THE  HARVESTER 

money  go  into  your  hands.  If  you  are  afraid  to  trust 
me,  I  will  give  you  the  names  of  several  people  you  can 
ask  concerning  me  the  next  time  you  go  to  the  city." 

She  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Never  mind  that,"  she  said.  "But  why  do  you  offer 
to  do  it  for  a  stranger?  It  must  be  some  trouble,  no 
matter  how  small  you  represent  it  to  be." 

"Perhaps  I  am  going  to  pay  you  eight  and  sell  for 
ten." 

"I  don't  think  you  can.  Five  sounds  fabulous  to  me. 
I  can't  believe  that.  If  you  wanted  to  make  money  you 
needn't  have  told  me  you  took  it.  I  never  would  have 
known.     That  isn't  your  reason!" 

"Possibly  I  would  like  to  atone  for  those  tears  I 
caused,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"Don't  think  of  that!  They  are  of  no  consequence 
to  any  one.  You  needn't  do  anything  for  me  on  that 
account." 

"Don't  search  for  a  reason,"  said  the  Harvester,  in 
his  gentlest  tones.  "Forget  that  feature  of  the  case. 
Say  I'm  peculiar,  and  allow  me  to  do  it  because  it  would 
be  a  pleasure.  In  close  two  weeks  I  will  bring  you  the 
money.     Is  it  a  bargain?" 

"Yes,  if  you  care  to  make  it." 

"I  care  very  much.     We  will  call  that  settled." 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you  what  it  will  mean  to  me,"  said 
the  Girl. 

"If  you  only  would,"  plead  the  Harvester. 

"I   must   not   burden   a   stranger  with   my   troubles." 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       141 

"But  if  it  would  make  the  stranger  so  happy!" 

"That  isn't  possible.  I  must  face  life  and  bear  what 
it  brings  me  alone." 

"Not  unless  you  choose,"  said  the  Harvester.  "That 
is,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  a  narrow  view  of  life.  It  cuts 
other  people  out  of  the  joy  of  service.  If  you  can't  tell 
me,  would  you  trust  a  very  lovely  and  gentle  woman  I 
could  bring  to  you?" 

"No  more  than  you.     It  is  my  affair;  I  must  work  it 

out  myself." 

"I  am  mighty  sorry,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  believe 
you  err  in  that  decision.  Think  it  over  a  day  or  so,  and 
see  if  two  heads  are  not  better  than  one.  You  will 
realize  when  this  ginseng  matter  is  settled  that  you  prof- 
ited by  trusting  me.  The  same  will  hold  good  along 
other  lines,  if  you  only  can  bring  yourself  to  think  so. 
At  any  rate,  try.  Telling  a  trouble  makes  it  lighter. 
Sympathy  should  help,  if  nothing  can  be  done.  And 
as  for  money,  I  can  show  you  how  to  earn  sums  at  least 
worth  your  time,  if  you  have  nothing  else  you  want 
to  do." 

The  Girl  bent  toward  him. 

"Oh  please  do  tell  me!"  she  cried  eagerly.  "I've  tried 
and  tried  to  find  some  way  ever  since  I  have  been  here, 
but  every  one  else  I  have  met  says  I  can't,  and  nothing 
seems  to  be  worth  anything.  If  you  only  would  tell  me 
something  I  could  do!" 

"If  you  will  excuse  my  saying  so,"  said  the  Harves- 
ter,   "it    appeals    to    me    that   ease,    not   work,    is    the 


H2  THE  HARVESTER 

thing  you  require.     You  appear  extremely  worn.      Won't 
you  let  me  help  you  find  a  way  to  a  long  rest  first?" 

" Impossible!"  cried  the  Girl.  "I  know  I  am  white 
and  appear  ill,  but  truly  I  never  have  been  sick  in  all 
my  life.  I  have  been  having  trouble  and  working  too 
much,  but  I'll  be  better  soon.  Believe  me,  there  is  no 
rest  for  me  now.     I  must  earn  the  money  I  owe  first." 

"There  is  a  way,  if  you  care  to  take  it,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "In  my  work  I  have  become  very  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  chief  surgeon  of  the  city  hospital. 
Through  him  I  happen  to  know  that  he  has  a  free  bed  in 
a  beautiful  room,  where  you  could  rest  until  you  are 
perfectly  strong  again,  and  that  room  is  empty  just  now. 
When  you  are  well,  I  will  tell  you  about  the  work." 

As  she  arose  the  Harvester  stood,  and  tall  and  straight 
she  faced  him. 

"Impossible!"  she  said.  "It  would  be  brutal  to  leave  my 
aunt.  I  cannot  pay  to  rest  in  a  hospital  ward,  and  I  will 
not  accept  chanty.  If  you  can  put  me  in  the  way  of  earn- 
ing, even  a  few  cents  a  day,  at  anything  I  could  do  outside 
the  work  necessary  to  earn  my  board  here,  it  would  bring 
me  closer  to  happiness  than  anything  else  on  earth." 

"What  I  suggest  is  not  impossible,"  said  the  Harvester 
softly.  "If  you  will  go,  inside  an  hour  a  sweet  and  gentle 
lady  will  come  for  you  and  take  you  to  ease  and  perfect 
rest  until  you  are  strong  again.  I  will  see  that  your  aunt 
is  cared  for  scrupulously.  I  can't  help  urging  you.  It 
is  a  crime  to  talk  of  work  to  a  woman  so  manifestly  worn 
as  you  are." 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       143 

"Then  we  will  not  speak  of  it,"  said  the  Girl  wearily. 
"It  is  time  for  me  to  go,  anyway.  I  see  you  mean  to 
be  very  kind,  and  while  I  don't  in  the*  least  understand 
it,  I  do  hope  you  feel  I  am  grateful.  If  half  you  say  about 
the  ginseng  comes  true,  I  can  make  a  payment  worth 
while  before  I  had  hoped  to.  I  have  no  words  to  tell  you 
what  that  will  mean  to  me." 

"If  this  debt  you  speak  of  were  paid,  could  you  rest 

then?" 

"I  could   lie  down  and  give  up  in  peace,  and  I  think 

I  would." 

"I  think  you  wouldn't,"  said  the  Harvester,  "because 
you  wouldn't  be  allowed.  There  are  people  in  these  days 
who  make  a  business  of  securing  rest  for  the  tired  and 
over  weary,  and  they  would  come  and  prevent  that  if 
you  tried  it.  Please  let  me  make  another  suggestion. 
If  you  owe  money  to  some  one  you  feel  needs  it  and  the 
debt  is  preying  on  you,  let's  pay  it." 

He  drew  a  small  check-book  from  his  pocket  and  slipped 
a  pen  from  a  band. 

"If  you  will  name  the  amount  and  give  me  the  address, 
you  shall  be  free  to  go  to  the  rest  I  ask  for  you  inside 
an  hour." 

Then  slowiy  from  head  to  foot  she  looked  at  him. 

"Why?" 

"Because  your  face  and  attitude  clearly  indicate  that 
you  are  over  tired.  Believe  me,  you  do  yourself  wrong 
if  you  refuse." 

"In  what  way  would  changing  creditors  rest  me?" 


i44  THE  HARVESTER 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  were  owing  some  one  who 
needed  the  money.  I  am  not  a  rich  man,  but  I  have  no 
one  save  myself  to  provide  for  and  I  have  funds  lying 
idle  that  I  would  be  glad  to  use  for  you.  If  you  make  a 
pointof  it,  when  you  are  rested,  you  can  repay  me." 

"My  creditor  needs  the  money,  but  I  should  prefer 
owing  him  rather  than  a  perfect  stranger.  What  you 
suggest  would  help  me not  at  all.     I  must  go  now." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Harvester.  "If  you  will  tell  me 
whom  to  ask  for  and  where  you  live,  I  will  come  to  see 
you  to-morrow  and  bring  you  some  pamphlets.  With 
these  and  with  a  little  help  you  soon  can  earn  any  amount 
a  girl  is  likely  to  owe.  It  will  require  but  a  little  while. 
Where  can  I  find  you?" 

The  Girl  hesitated  and  for  the  first  time  a  hint  of  colour 
flushed  her  cheek.  But  courage  appeared  to  be  her 
strong  point. 

"Do  you  live  in  this  part  of  the  country?"  she  asked. 

"I  live  ten  miles  from  here,  east  of  Onabasha,"  he 
answered. 

"Do  you  know  Henry  Jameson?" 

"By  sight  and  by  reputation." 

"Did  you  ever  know  anything  kind  or  humane  of  him?" 

"I  never  did." 

"My  name  is  Ruth  Jameson.  At  present  I  am  in- 
debted to  him  for  the  only  shelter  I  have.  His  wife 
is  ill  through  overwork  and  worry,  and  I  am  paying  for 
my  bed  and  what  I  don't  eat,  principally,  by  attempting 
her  work.     It  scarcely  would  be  fair  to  Uncle  Henry  to 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       145 

say  that  I  do  it.  I  stagger  around  as  long  as  I  can  stand, 
then  I  sit  through  his  abuse.  He  is  a  pleasant  man. 
Please  don't  think  I  am  telling  you  this  to  harrow  your 
sympathy  further.  The  reason  I  explain  is  because  I 
am  driven.  If  I  do  not,  you  will  misjudge  me  when  I 
say  that  I  only  can  see  you  here.  I  understood  what 
you  meant  when  you  said  Uncle  Henry  should  have 
known  the  price  of  ginseng  if  he  knew  it  was  for  sale. 
He  did.  He  knew  what  he  could  get  for  it,  and  what 
he  meant  to  pay  me.  That  is  one  of  his  original  methods 
with  a  woman.  If  he  thought  I  could  earn  anything 
worth  while,  he  would  allow  me,  if  I  killed  myself  doing 
it;  and  then  he  would  take  the  money  by  force  if  neces- 
sary. So  I  can  meet  you  here  only.  I  can  earn  just 
what  I  may  in  secret.  He  buys  cattle  and  horses  and 
is  away  from  home  much  of  the  day,  and  when  Aunt 
Molly  is  comfortable  I  can  have  a  few  hours." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  this  is  an 
added  hardship.  Why  do  you  remain?  Why  subject 
yourself  to  force  and  work  too  heavy  for  you?" 

"Because  his  is  the  only  roof  on  earth  where  I  feel  I 
can  pay  for  all  I  get.  I  don't  care  to  discuss  it,  I  only 
want  you  to  say  you  understand,  if  I  ask  you  to  bring  the 
pamphlets  here  and  tell  me  how  I  can  earn  money." 

"I  do,"  said  the  Harvester  earnestly,  although  his 
heart  was  hot  in  protest.  "You  may  be  very  sure  that 
I  will  not  misjudge  you.  Shall  I  come  at  two  o'clock 
to-morrow,  Miss  Jameson?" 

"If  you  will  be  so  kind." 


146  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  stepped  aside  and  she  passed  him  and 
crossing  the  rifled  ginseng  patch  went  toward  a  low 
brown  farmhouse  lying  in  an  unkept  garden,  beside  a 
ragged  highway.  The  man  sat  on  the  log  she  had  va- 
cated, held  his  head  between  his  hands  and  tried  to  think, 
but  he  could  not  for  big  waves  of  joy  that  swept  over 
him  when  he  realized  that  at  last  he  had  found  her,  had 
spoken  with  her,  and  had  arranged  a  meeting  for  the 
morrow. 

"Belshazzar,"  he  said  softly,  "I  wish  I  could  leave  you 
to  protect  her.  Every  day  you  prove  to  me  that  I  need 
you,  but  Heaven  knows  her  necessity  is  greater.  Bel, 
she  makes  my  heart  ache  until  it  feels  like  jelly.  There 
seems  to  be  just  one  thing  to  do.  Get  that  fool  debt 
paid  like  lightning,  and  lift  her  out  of  here  quicker  than 
that.  Now,  we  will  go  and  see  Doc,  and  call  off  the 
watch-dogs  of  the  law.  Ahead  of  them,  aren't  we,  Bel- 
shazzar? There  is  a  better  day  coming;  we  feel  it  in  our 
bones,  don't  we,  old  partner?" 

The  Harvester  started  through  the  woods  on  a  rush, 
and  as  the  exercise  warmed  his  heart,  he  grew  wonder- 
fully glad.  At  last  he  had  found  her.  Uncertainty  was 
over.  If  ever  a  girl  needed  a  home  and  care  he  thought 
she  did.  He  was  so  jubilant  that  he  felt  like  crying 
aloud,  shouting  for  joy,  but  by  and  by  the  years  of  sober 
repression  made  their  weight  felt,  so  he  climbed  into 
the  wagon  and  politely  requested  Betsy  to  make  her 
best  time  to  Onabasha.  Betsy  had  been  asked  to  make 
haste  so  frequently  of  late  that  she  at  first  almost  doubted 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       147 

the  sanity  of  her  master,  the  law  of  whose  life,  until 
recently,  had  been  to  take  his  time.  Now  he  appeared 
to  be  in  haste  every  day.  She  had  become  so  accustomed 
to  being  urged  to  hurry  that  she  almost  had  developed 
a  gait;  so  at  the  Harvester's  suggestion  she  did  her  level 
best  to  Onabasha  and  the  hospital,  where  she  loved  to 
nose  Belshazzar  and  rest  near  the  watering  tap  under 
a  big  tree. 

The  Harvester  went  down  the  hall  and  into  the  office 
on  the  run,  and  his  face  appeared  like  a  materialized  em- 
bodiment of  living  joy.  Doctor  Carey  turned  at  his 
approach  and  then  bounded  half  way  across  the  room, 
his  hands  outstretched. 

"You've  found  her,  David!" 

The  Harvester  grabbed  the  hand  of  his  friend  and 
stood  pumping  it  up  and  down  while  he  gulped  at  the 
lump  in  his  throat,  and  big  tears  squeezed  from  his  eyes, 
but  he  could  only  nod  his  proud  head. 

"Found  her!"  exulted  Doctor  Carey.  "Really  found 
her!  Well  that's  great!  Sit  down  and  tell  me,  boy! 
Is  she  sick,  as  we  feared?  Did  you  only  see  her  or  did 
you  get  to  talk  with  her?" 

"Well  sir,"  said  the  Harvester,  choking  back  his 
emotions,  "you  remember  that  ginseng  I  told  you  about 
getting  on  the  old  Jameson  place  last  night.  To-day, 
I  learned  I'd  lost  that  hand-made  mattock  I  use  most, 
and  I  went  back  for  it,  and  there  she  was." 

"In  the  country?" 

"Yes  sir!" 


148  THE  HARVESTER 

"Well  why  didn't  we  think  of  it  before?" 

"I  suppose  first  we  would  have  had  to  satisfy  our- 
selves that  she  wasn't  in  town,  anyway." 

"Sure!  That  would  be  the  logical  way  to  go  at  it! 
And  so  you  found  her?" 

"Yes  sir,  I  found  her!  Just  Belshazzar  and  I!  I  was 
going  along  on  my  way  to  the  place,  and  he  ran  past 
me  and  made  a  stiff  point,  and  when  I  came  up,  there  she 
was!" 

"There  she  was?" 

"Yes  sir;  there  she  was!" 

They  shook  hands  again. 

"Then  of  course  you  spoke  to  her." 

"Yes  I  spoke  to  her." 

"Were  you  pleased?" 

"With  her  speech  and  manner? yes.     But,  Doc,  if 

ever  a  woman  needed  everything  on  earth!" 

"Well  did  you  get  any  kind  of  a  start  made?" 

"I  couldn't  do  so  very  much.  I  had  to  go  a  little  slow 
for  fear  of  frightening  her,  but  I  tried  to  get  her  to  come 
here  and  she  won't  until  a  debt  she  owes  is  paid,  and  she's 
in  no  condition  to  work." 

"Got  any  idea  how  much  it  is?" 

"No,  but  it  can't  be  any  large  sum.  I  tried  to  offer 
to  pay  it,  but  she  had  no  hesitation  in  telling  me  she 
preferred  owing  a  man  she  knew  to  a  stranger." 

"Well  if  she  is  so  particular,  how  did  she  come  to  tell 
you  first  thing  that  she  was  in  debt?" 

The  Harvester  explained. 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       149 

"Oh  I  see!"  said  the  doctor.  "Well  you'll  have  to 
baby  her  along  with  the  idea  that  she  is  earning  money 
and  pay  her  double  until  you  get  that  off  her  mind,  and 
while  you  are  at  it,  put  in  your  best  licks,  my  boy;  perk 
right  up  and  court  her  like  a  house  afire.  Women  like  it. 
All  of  them  do.  They  glory  in  feeling  that  a  man  is 
crazy  about  them." 

"Well  I'm  insane  enough  over  her,"  said  the  Har- 
vester, "but  I'd  hate  like  the  nation  for  her  to  know  it. 
Seems  as  if  a  woman  couldn't  respect  such  an  addle-pate 
as  I  am  lately." 

"Don't  you  worry  about  that,"  advised  the  doctor. 
"Just  you  make  love  to  her.  Go  at  it  in  the  good  old- 
fashioned  way." 

"But  maybe  the  'good  old-fashioned  way'  isn't  my 
way." 

"What's  the  difference  whose  way  it  is,  if  it  wins  ? " 

"But  Kipling  says:  'Each  man  makes  love  his  own 
way!'" 

"I  seem  to  have  heard  you  mention  that  name  be- 
fore," said  the  doctor.  "Do  you  regard  him  as  an 
authority?" 

"I  do!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Especially  when  he 
advises  me  after  my  own  heart  and  reason.  Miss  Jame- 
son is  not  a  silly  girl.  She's  a  woman,  and  twenty-four 
at  least.  I  don't  want  her  to  care  for  a  trick  or  a  pre- 
tence. I  do  want  her  to  love  me.  Not  that  I  am  worth 
her  attention,  but  because  she  needs  some  strong  man 
fearfully,  and  I  am  ready  and  more  'willing'  than  the 


ISO  THE  HARVESTER 

original  Barkis.  But,  like  him,  I  have  to  let  her  know 
it  in  my  way,  and  court  her  according  to  the  promptings 
of  my  heart." 

"You  deceive  yourself!"  said  the  doctor  flatly.  "That's 
all  bosh!  Your  tongue  says  it  for  the  satisfaction  of 
your  ears,  and  it  does  sound  well.  You  will  court  her 
according  to  your  ideas  of  the  conventions,  as  you  under- 
stand them,  and  strictly  in  accordance  with  what  you 
consider  the  respect  due  her.  If  you  had  followed  the 
thing  you  call  the  'promptings  of  your  heart,'  you  would 
have  picked  her  up  by  main  force  and  brought  her  to 
my  best  ward,  instead  of  merely  suggesting  it  and  giving 
up  when  she  said  no.  If  you  had  followed  your  heart, 
you  would  have  choked  the  name  and  amount  out  of  her 
and  paid  that  devilish  debt.  You  walk  away  in  a  case 
like  that,  and  then  have  the  nerve  to  come  here  and 
prate  to  me  about  following  your  heart.  I'll  wager  my 
last  dollar  your  heart  is  sore  because  you  were  not  al- 
lowed to  help  her;  but  on  the  proposition  that  you  followed 
its  promptings  I  wouldn't  stake  a  penny.  That's  all 
tommy-rot!" 

"It  is,"  agreed  the  Harvester.  "Utter!  But  what  can 
a  man  do?" 

"I  don't  know  what  you  can  do!  I'd  have  paid  that 
debt  and  brought  her  to  the  hospital." 

"I'll  go  and  ask  Mrs.  Carey  about  your  courtship.  I 
want  her  help  on  this,  anyway.  I  can  pick  up  Miss 
Jameson  and  bring  her  here  if  any  man  can,  but  she  is 
nursing  a  sick  woman  who  depends  solely  on  her  for  care. 


BELSHAZZAR'S  RECORD  POINT       151 

She  is  above  average  size,  and  she  has  a  very  decided 
mind  of  her  own.  I  don't  think  you  would  use  force 
and  do  what  you  think  best  for  her,  if  you  were  in  my 
place.  You  would  wait  until  you  understood  the  situa- 
tion better,  and  knew  that  what  you  did  was  for  the 
best,  ultimately." 

"I  don't  know  whether  I  would  or  not.  One  thing  is 
sure:  I'm  mighty  glad  you  have  found  her.  May  I 
tell  my  wife?" 

" Please  do!  And  ask  her  if  I  may  depend  on  her  if 
I  need  a  woman's  help.  Now  I'll  call  off  the  valiant 
police  and  go  home  and  take  a  good,  sound  sleep.  Haven't 
had  many  since  I  first  saw  her." 

So  Betsy  trotted  down  the  valley,  up  the  embankment, 
crossed  the  railroad,  over  the  levee  across  Singing  Water, 
and  up  the  hill  to  the  cabin.  As  they  passed  it,  the 
Harvester  jumped  from  the  wagon,  tossed  the  hitching 
strap  to  Belshazzar,  and  entered.  He  walked  straight 
to  her  door,  unlocked  it,  and  uncovering,  went  inside. 
Softly  he  passed  from  piece  to  piece  of  the  furniture  he 
had  made  for  her,  and  then  surveyed  the  walls  and  floor. 

"It  isn't  half  good  enough,"  he  said,  "but  it  will  have 
to  answer  until  I  can  do  better.  Surely  she  will  know 
I  tried  and  care  for  that,  anyway.  I  wonder  how  long 
it  will  take  me  to  get  her  here.  Oh,  if  I  only  could  know 
she  was  comfortable  and  happy!  HapDy!  She  doesn't 
appear  as  if  she  ever  had  heard  that  word.  Well  this 
will  be  a  good  place  to  teach  her.  I've  always  enjoyed 
myself  here.     I'm  going  to  have  faith  that  I  can  win 


152  THE  HARVESTER 

her  and  make  her  happy  also.  When  I  go  to  the  stable 
to  do  my  work  for  the  night  if  I  could  know  she  was  in 
this  cabin  and  glad  of  it,  and  if  I  could  hear  her  down 
here  singing  like  a  happy  care-free  girl,  I'd  scarcely  be 
able  to  endure  the  joy  of  it." 


CHAPTER  IX 
The  Harvester  Goes  Courting 

SHE  is  on  Henry  Jameson's  farm,  four  miles  west  of 
Onabasha,"  said  the  Harvester,  as  he  opened  his 
eyes  next  morning,  and  laid  a  caressing  hand  on 
Belshazzar's  head.  "At  two  o'clock  we  are  going  to  see 
her,  and  we  are  going  to  prolong  the  visit  to  the  ultimate 
limit,  so  we  should  make  things  count  here  before  we 
start." 

He  worked  in  a  manner  that  accomplished  much.  There 
seemed  no  end  to  his  energy  that  morning.  Despatching 
the  usual  routine,  he  gathered  the  herbs  that  were  ready, 
spread  them  on  the  shelves  of  the  dry-house,  found 
time  to  do  several  things  in  the  cabin,  and  polish  a  piece 
of  furniture  before  he  ate  his  lunch  and  hitched  Betsy 
to  the  wagon.  He  also  had  recovered  his  voice,  and 
talked  almost  incessantly  as  he  worked.  When  it  neared 
time  to  start  he  dressed  carefully.  He  stood  before 
his  bookcase  and  selected  several  pamphlets  published 
by  the  Department  of  Agriculture.  He  went  to  his 
beds  and  gathered  a  large  arm  load  of  plants.  Then  he 
was  ready  to  make  his  first  trip  to  see  the  Dream  Girl, 
but  it  never  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  going  courting. 

153 


154  THE  HARVESTER 

He  had  decided  fully  that  there  would  be  no  use  to  try 
to  make  love  to  a  girl  manifestly  so  ill  and  in  trouble. 
The  first  thing,  it  appeared  to  him,  was  to  dispel  the 
depression,  improve  the  health,  and  then  do  the  love 
making.  So,  in  the  most  business-like  manner  possible 
and  without  a  shade  of  embarrassment,  the  Harvester 
took  his  herbs  and  books  and  started  for  the  Jameson 
woods.  At  times  as  he  drove  along  he  espied  something 
that  he  used  growing  beside  the  road  and  stopped  to 
secure  a  specimen. 

He  came  down  the  river  bank  and  reached  the  ginseng 
bed  at  half-past  one.  He  was  purposely  early.  He  laid 
down  his  books  and  plants,  and  rolled  the  log  on  which  she 
sat  the  day  before  to  a  more  shaded  location,  where  a  big 
tree  would  serve  for  a  back  rest.  He  pulled  away  brush 
and  windfalls,  heaped  dry  brown  leaves,  and  tramped 
them  down  for  her  feet.  Then  he  laid  the  books  on  the 
log,  the  arm  load  of  plants  beside  them,  and  went  to  the 
river  to  wash  his  soiled  hands. 

Belshazzar's  short  bark  told  him  the  Girl  was  com- 
ing, and  between  the  trees  he  saw  the  dog  race  to  meet  her 
and  she  bent  to  stroke  his  head.  She  wore  the  same 
dress  and  appeared  even  paler  and  thinner.  The  Har- 
vester hurried  up  the  bank,  wiping  his  hands  on  his 
handkerchief. 

"Glad  to  see  you!"  he  greeted  her  casually.  "I've 
fixed  you  a  seat  with  a  back  rest  to-day.  Don't  be 
frightened  at  the  stack  of  herbs.  You  needn't  gather 
all  of  those.     They  are  only  suggestions.     They  are  just 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  155 

common  roadside  plants  that  have  some  medicinal  value 
and  are  worth  collecting.     Please  try  my  davenport." 

"Thank  you!"  she  said  as  she  dropped  on  the  log  and 
leaned  her  head  against  the  tree.  It  appeared  as  if  her 
eyes  closed  a  few  seconds  in  spite  of  her,  and  while  they 
were  shut  the  Harvester  looked  steadily  and  intently  on 
a  face  of  exquisite  beauty,  but  so  marred  by  pallor  and 
lines  of  care  that  search  was  required  to  recognize  just 
how  handsome  she  was,  and  if  he  had  not  seen  her  in 
perfection  in  the  dream  the  Harvester  might  have  missed 
glorious  possibilities.  To  bring  back  that  vision  would 
be  a  task  worth  while  was  his  thought.  With  the  first 
faint  quiver  of  an  eyelash  the  Harvester  took  a  few 
steps  and  bent  over  a  plant,  and  as  he  did  so  the  Girl's 
eyes  followed  him. 

He  appeared  so  tall  and  strong,  so  bronzed  by  summer 
sun  and  wind,  his  face  so  keen  and  intense,  that  swift 
fear  caught  her  heart.  Why  was  he  there?  Why  should 
he  take  so  much  trouble  for  her?  With  difficulty  she 
restrained  herself  from  springing  up  and  running  away. 
Turning  with  the  plant  in  his  hand  the  Harvester  saw  the 
panic  in  her  eyes,  and  it  troubled  his  heart.  For  an 
instant  he  was  bewildered,  then  he  understood. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  work  when  you  are  not  able,"  he 
said  in  his  most  matter-of-fact  voice,  "but  if  you  still 
think  that  you  are,  I'll  be  very  glad.  I  need  help  just 
now,  more  than  I  can  tell  you,  and  there  seem  to  be  so 
few  people  who  can  be  trusted.  Gathering  stuff  for  drugs 
is  really  very  serious  business.     You  see,  I've  a  reputation 


156  THE  HARVESTER 

to  sustain  with  some  of  the  biggest  laboratories  in  the 
country,  not  to  mention  the  fact  that  I  sometimes  try 
compounding  a  new  remedy  for  some  common  complaint 
myself.  I  rather  take  pride  in  the  fact  that  my  stuff  goes 
in  so  fresh  and  clean  that  I  always  get  anywhere  from 
three  to  ten  cents  a  pound  above  the  listed  prices  for  it.  I 
want  that  money,  but  I  want  an  unbroken  record  for  doing 
a  job  right  and  being  square  and  careful,  much  more." 

He  thought  the  appearance  of  fright  was  fading,  and  a 
tinge  of  interest  taking  its  place.  She  was  looking 
straight  at  him,  and  as  he  talked  he  could  see  her  sum- 
moning her  tired  forces  to  understand  and  follow  him,  so 
he  continued: 

"One  would  think  that  as  medicines  are  required  in 
cases  of  life  and  death,  collectors  would  use  extreme  cau- 
tion, but  some  of  them  are  criminally  careless.  It's  a 
common  thing  to  gather  almost  any  fern  for  male  fern;  to 
throw  in  anything  that  will  increase  weight,  to  wash 
imperfectly,  and  commit  many  other  sins  that  lie  with  the 
collector;  beyond  that  I  don't  like  to  think.  I  suppose 
there  are  men  who  deliberately  adulterate  pure  stuff  to 
make  it  go  farther,  but  when  it  comes  to  drugs,  I  scarcely 
can  speak  of  it  calmly.  I  like  to  do  a  thing  right.  I 
raise  most  of  my  plants,  bushes,  and  herbs.  I  gather 
exactly  in  season,  wash  carefully  if  water  dare  be  used, 
clean  them  otherwise  if  not,  and  dry  them  by  a  hot  air 
system  in  an  evaporator  I  built  purposely.  Each  package 
I  put  up  is  pure  stuff,  clean,  properly  dried,  and  fresh.  If 
I  caught  any  man  in  the  act  of  adulterating  any  of  it  I'm 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  157 

afraid  he  would  get  hurt  badly  —  and  usually  I  am  a 
peaceable  man.  I  am  explaining  this  to  show  how 
very  careful  you  must  be  to  keep  things  separate  and 
collect  the  right  plants  if  you  are  going  to  sell  stuff  to 
me.     I  am  extremely  particular." 

The  Girl  was  leaning  toward  him,  watching  his  face, 
and  hers  was  slowly  changing.  She  was  deeply  interested, 
much  impressed,  and  more  at  ease.  When  the  Harves- 
ter saw  he  had  talked  her  into  confidence  he  crossed 
the  leaves,  and  sitting  on  the  log  beside  her,  picked  up 
the  books  and  opened  one. 

"Oh  I  will  be  careful,"  said  the  Girl.  "If  you  will 
trust  me  to  collect  for  you,  I  will  undertake  only  what 
I  am  sure  I  know,  and  I'll  do  exactly  as  you  tell  me." 

"There  are  a  dozen  things  that  bring  a  price  rang- 
ing from  three  to  fifteen  cents  a  pound,  that  are  in  sea- 
son just  now.  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  begin  on 
some  common,  easy  things,  that  will  bring  the  most 
money." 

Without  a  breath  of  hesitation  she  answered,  "I  will 
commence  on  whatever  you  are  short  of  and  need  most 
to  have." 

The  heart  of  the  Harvester  gave  a  leap  that  almost 
choked  him,  for  he  was  vividly  conscious  of  a  broken 
shoe  she  was  hiding  beneath  her  skirts.  He  wanted  to 
say  "thank  you,"  but  he  was  afraid  to,  so  he  turned  the 
leaves   of   the   book. 

"I  am  working  just  now  on  mullein,"  he  said. 

"Oh    I    know    mullein,"    she    cried,    with    almost    a 


158  THE  HARVESTER 

hint    of  animation     in    her    voice.     "The     tall,    yellow 
flower  stem  rising  from  a  circle  of  green  felt  leaves!" 

"Good!"  said  the  Harvester.  "What  a  pretty  way 
to  describe  it!     Do  you  know  any  more  plants?" 

"Only  a  few!  I  had  a  high-school  course  in  botany, 
but  it  was  all  about  flower  and  leaf  formation,  nothing 
at  all  of  what  anything  was  good  for.  I  also  learned 
a  few,  drawing  them  for  leather  and  embroidery  de- 
signs." 

"Look  here!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "I  came  with  an 
arm  load  of  herbs  and  expected  to  tell  you  all  about 
foxglove,  mullein,  yarrow,  jimson,  purple  thorn  apple, 
blessed  thistle,  hemlock,  hoarhound,  lobelia,  and  every- 
thing in  season  now;  but  if  you  already  have  a  profession, 
why  do  you  attempt  a  new  one?  Why  don't  you  go 
on  drawing?  I  never  saw  anything  so  stupid  as  most 
of  the  designs  from  nature  for  book  covers  and  deco- 
rations, leather  work  and  pottery.  They  are  the  same 
old  subjects  worked  over  and  over.  If  you  can  draw, 
enough  to  make  original  copies,  I  can  furnish  you  with 
flowers,  vines,  birds,  and  insects,  new,  unused,  and 
of  exquisite  beauty,  for  every  month  in  the  year.  I've 
looked  into  the  matter  a  little,  because  I  am  rather  handy 
with  a  knife,  and  I  carve  candlesticks  from  suitable 
pieces  of  wood.  I  always  have  trouble  getting  my 
designs  copied;  securing  something  new  and  unusual, 
never!  If  you  can  draw  just  well  enough  to  reproduce 
what  you  see,  gathering  drugs  is  too  slow  and  tiresome. 
What  you   want   to   do   is   to   reproduce   the   subjects    I 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  159 

will  bring,  and  I'll  buy  what  I  want  in  my  work,  and 
sell  the  remainder  at  the  arts  and  crafts  stores  for  you. 
Or  I  can  find  out  what  they  pay  for  such  designs  at  pot- 
teries and  ceramic  factories.  You  have  no  time  to 
spend  on  herbs,  when  you  are  in  the  woods,  if  you  can 
draw." 

"I  am  surely  in  the  woods,"  said  the  Girl,  "and  I 
know  I  can  copy  correctly.  I  often  made  designs  for 
embroidery  and  leather  for  the  shop  mother  and  I  worked 
for  in  Chicago." 

"Won't  they  buy  them  of  you  now?" 

"Undoubtedly." 

"Do  they  pay  anything  worth  while?" 

"I  don't  know  how  their  prices  compare  with  others. 
One  place  was  all  I  worked  for.  I  think  they  pay  what 
is  fair." 

"We  will  find  out,"  said  the  Harvester  promptly. 

"I I  don't  think  you  need  waste  the  time,"  fal- 
tered the  Girl.  "I  had  better  gather  the  plants  for  a 
while  at  least." 

"Collecting  crude  drug  material  is  not  easy,"  said 
the  Harvester.  "Drawing  may  not  be  either,  but  at 
least  you  could  sit  while  you  work,  and  it  should  bring 
you  more  money.  Besides,  I  very  much  want  a  moth 
copied  for  a  candlestick  I  am  carving.  Won't  you 
draw  that  for  me?  I  have  some  pupae  cases  and  the 
moths  will  be  out  any  day  now.  If  I'd  bring  you  one, 
wouldn't  you  just  make  a  copy?" 

The    Girl    gripped    her    hands    together    and    stared 


i6o  THE  HARVESTER 

straight  ahead  of  her  for  a  second,  then  she  turned  to 
him. 

"I'd  like  to,"  she  said,  "but  I  have  nothing  to  work 
with.  In  Chicago  they  furnished  my  material  at  the 
shop  and  I  drew  the  design  and  was  paid  for  the  pattern. 
I  didn't  know  there  would  be  a  chance  for  anything  like 
that  here.     I   haven't  even  proper  pencils." 

"Then  the  way  for  you  to  do  this  is  to  strip  the  first 
mullein  plants  you  see  of  the  petals.  I  will  pay  you 
seventy-five  cents  a  pound  for  them.  By  the  time  you 
get  a  few  pounds  I  can  have  material  you  need  for  draw- 
ing here  and  you  can  go  to  work  on  whatever  flowers, 
vines,  and  things  you  can  find  in  the  woods,  with  no 
thanks  to  any  one." 

"I  can't  see  that,"  said  the  Girl.  "It  would  appear 
to  me  that  I  would  be  under  more  obligations  than  I 
could  repay,  and  to  a  stranger." 

"I  figure  it  this  way,"  said  the  Harvester,  watching 
from  the  corner  of  his  eye.  "I  can  sell  at  good  prices 
all  the  mullein  flowers  I  can  secure.  You  collect  for 
me,  I  buy  them.  You  can  use  drawing  tools;  I  get 
them  for  you,  and  you  pay  me  with  the  mullein  or  out 
of  the  ginseng  money  I  owe  you.  You  already  have 
that  coming,  and  it's  just  as  much  yours  as  it  will  be  ten 
days  from  now.  You  needn't  hesitate  a  second  about 
drawing  on  it,  because  I  am  in  a  hurry  for  the  moth 
pattern.  I  find  time  to  carve  only  at  night,  you  see. 
As  for  being  under  obligations  to  a  stranger,  in  the  first 
place  all  the  debt  would  be  on  my  side.     I'd  get  the  drugs 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  161 

and  the  pattern  I  want;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I 
positively  and  emphatically  refuse  to  be  a  stranger. 
It  would  be  so  much  better  to  be  mutual  helpers  and 
friends  of  the  kind  worth  having;  and  the  sooner  we 
begin,  the  sooner  we  can  work  together  to  good  advan- 
tage. Get  that  stranger  idea  out  of  your  head  right  now, 
and  replace  it  with  thoughts  of  a  new  friend,  who  is 
willing" — the  Harvester  detected  panic  in  her  eyes  and 
ended  casually  —  "to  enter  a  partnership  that  will  be  of 
benefit  to  both  of  us.  Partners  can't  be  strangers,  you 
know,"  he  finished. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  said  tne  Girl. 

"Never  bother  your  head  with  thinking,"  advised 
the  Harvester  with  an  air  of  large  wisdom.  "It  is  un- 
profitable and  very  tiring.  Any  one  can  see  that  you  are 
too  weary  now.  Don't  dream  of  such  a  foolish  thing  as 
thinking.  Don't  worry  over  motives  and  obligations. 
Say  to  yourself,  'I'll  enter  this  partnership  and  if  it  brings 
me  anything  good,  I'm  that  much  ahead.  If  it  fails,  I 
have  lost  nothing.'     That's  the  way  to  look  at  it." 

Then  before  she  could  answer  he  continued:  "Now 
I  want  all  the  mullein  bloom  I  can  get.  You'll  see  the 
yellow  heads  everywhere.  Strip  the  petals  and  bring 
them  here,  and  I'll  come  for  them  every  day.  They 
must  go  on  the  trays  as  fresh  as  possible.  On  your  part, 
we  will  make  out  the  order  now." 

He  took  a  pencil  and  notebook  from  his  pocket. 

"You  want  drawing  pencils  and  brushes;  how  many, 
what  make  and  size?" 


162  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Girl  hesitated  for  a  moment  as  if  struggling  to 
decide  what  to  do;  then  she  named  the  articles. 

"And  paper?" 

He  wrote  that  down,  and  asked  if  there  was  more. 

"I  think/'  he  said,  "that  I  can  get  this  order  filled 
in  Onabasha.  The  art  stores  should  keep  these  things. 
And  shouldn't  you  have  water-colour  paper  and  some 
paint?" 

Then  there  was  a  flash  across  the  white  face. 

"Oh  if  I  only  could!"  she  cried.  "All  my  life  I  have 
been  crazy  for  a  box  of  colour,  but  I  never  could  afford 
it,  and  of  course,  I  can't  now.  But  if  this  splendid 
plan  works,  and  I  can  earn  what  I  owe,  then  maybe 
I   can." 

"Well  this  'splendid  plan'  is  going  to  'work,'  don't 
you  bother  about  that,"  said  the  Harvester.  "It  has 
begun  working  right  now.  Don't  worry  a  minute. 
After  things  have  gone  wrong  for  a  certain  length  of 
time,  they  always  veer  and  go  right  a  while  as  com- 
pensation. Don't  think  of  anything  save  that  you  are 
at  the  turning.  Since  it  is  all  settled  that  we  are  to  be 
partners,  would  you  name  me  the  figures  of  the  debt 
that  is  worrying  you?  Don't,  if  you  mind.  I  just 
thought  perhaps  we  could  get  along  better  if  I  knew. 
Is  it say  five  hundred  dollars?" 

"Oh  dear  no!"  cried  the  Girl  in  a  panic.  "I  never 
could  face  that!  It  is  not  quite  one  hundred,  and  that 
seems  big  as  a  mountain  to  me." 

"Forget  it!"  he  cried.     "The  ginseng  will  pay  more 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  163 

than  half;  that  I  know.  I  can  bring  you  the  cash  in  a 
little  over  a  week." 

She  started  to  speak,  hesitated,  and  at  last  turned  to  him. 

"Would  you  mind,"  she  said,  "if  I  asked  you  to  keep 
it  until  I  can  find  a  way  to  go  to  town?  It's  too  far  to 
walk  and  I  don't  know  how  to  send  it.  Would  I  dare 
put  it  in  a  letter?" 

"Never!"  said  the  Harvester.  "You  want  a  draft. 
That  money  will  be  too  precious  to  run  any  risks.  I'll 
bring  it  to  you  and  you  can  write  a  note  and  explain 
to  whom  you  want  it  paid,  and  I'll  take  it  to  the  bank 
for  you  and  get  your  draft.  Then  you  can  write  a 
letter,  and  half  your  worry  will  be  over  safely." 

"It  must  be  done  in  a  sure  way,"  said  the  Girl.  "If 
I  knew  I  had  the  money  to  pay  that  much  on  what  I 
owe,  and  then  lost  it,  I  simply  could  not  endure  it.  I 
would  lie  down  and  give  up  as  Aunt  Molly  has." 

"Forget  that  too!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Wipe 
out  all  the  past  that  has  pain  in  it.  The  future  is  going 
to  be  beautifully  bright.  That  little  bird  on  the  bush 
there  just  told  me  so,  and  you  are  always  safe  when  you 
trust  the  feathered  folk.  If  you  are  going  to  live  in  the 
country  any  length  of  time,  you  must  know  them,  and 
they  will  become  a  great  comfort.  Are  you  planning 
to  be  here  long?" 

"I  have  no  plans.  After  what  I  saw  Chicago  do  to  my 
mother  I  would  rather  finish  life  in  the  open  than  re- 
turn to  the  city.  It  is  horrible  here,  but  at  least  I'm  not 
hungry,  and  not  afraid all  the  time." 


164  THE  HARVESTER 

"Gracious  Heaven!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  you  are  afraid  any  part  of  the  time? 
Would  you  kindly  tell  me  of  whom,  and  why?" 

"You  should  know  without  being  told  that  when  a 
woman  born  and  reared  in  a  city,  and  all  her  life  confined 
there,  steps  into  the  woods  for  the  first  time,  she's  bound 
to  be  afraid.  The  last  few  weeks  constitute  my  en- 
tire experience  with  the  country,  and  I'm  in  mortal  fear 
that  snakes  will  drop  from  trees  and  bushes  or  spring 
from  the  ground.  Some  places  I  think  I'm  sinking, 
and  whenever  a  bush  catches  my  skirts  it  seems  as  if 
something  dreadful  is  reaching  up  for  me;  there  is  a 
possibility  of  horror  lurking  behind  every  tree  and " 

"Stop!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "I  can't  endure  it!  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  afraid  here  and  now?" 

She  met  his  eyes  squarely. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "It  almost  makes  me  ill  to  sit  on 
this  log  without  taking  a  stick  and  poking  all  around 
it  first.  Every  minute  I  think  something  is  going  to 
strike  me  in  the  back  or  drop  on  my  head." 

The  Harvester  grew  very  white  beneath  the  tan, 
and  that  developed  a  nice,  sickly  green  complexion  for 
him. 

"Am  I  part  of  your  tortures?"  he  asked  tersely. 

"Why  shouldn't  you  be?"  she  answered.  "What  do 
I  know  of  you  or  your  motives  or  why  you  are  here?" 

"I  have  had  no  experience  with  the  atmosphere  that 
breeds  such  an  attitude  in  a  girl." 

"That  is  a   thing  for  which  to  thank  Heaven.     Un- 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  165 

doubtedly  it  is  gracious  to  you.  My  life  has  been  dif- 
ferent." 

"Yet  in  mortal  terror  of  the  woods,  and  probably 
equal  fear  of  me,  you  are  here  and  asking  for  work  that 
will  keep  you  here." 

"I  would  go  through  fire  and  flood  for  the  money  I 
owe.     After   that   debt   is   paid " 

She  threw  out  her  hands  in  a  hopeless  gesture.  The 
Harvester  drew  forth  a  roll  of  bills  and  tossed  them 
into  her  lap. 

"For  the  love  of  mercy  take  what  you  need  and  pay 
it,"  he  said.  "Then  get  a  floor  under  your  feet,  and  try, 
I  beg  of  you,  try  to  force  yourself  to  have  confidence 
in  me,  until  I  do  something  that  gives  you  the  least 
reason  for  distrusting  me." 

She  picked  up  the  money  and  gave  it  a  contemptuous 
whirl  that  landed  it  at  his  feet. 

"What  greater  cause  of  distrust  could  I  have  by  any 
possibility  than  just  that?"  she  asked. 

The  Harvester  arose  hastily,  and  taking  several  steps, 
he  stood  with  folded  arms,  his  back  turned.  The  Girl 
sat  watching  him  with  wide  eyes,  the  dull  blue  plain 
in  their  dusky  depths.  When  he  did  not  speak,  she 
grew  restless.  At  last  she  slowly  arose  and  circling 
him  looked  into  his  face.  It  was  convulsed  with  a 
struggle  in  which  love  and  patience  fought  for  suprem- 
acy over  honest  anger.  As  he  saw  her  so  close,  his 
lips  drew  apart,  and  his  breath  came  deeply,  but  he  did 
not   speak.     He   merely   stood   and   looked   at   her,   and 


166  THE  HARVESTER 

looked;  and  she  gazed  at  him  as  if  fascinated,  but  un- 
comprehending. 

"Ruth!" 

The  call  came  roaring  up  the  hill.  The  Girl  shivered 
and  became  paler. 

"Is  that  your  uncle ?"  asked  the  Harvester. 

She    nodded. 

"Will  you  come  to-morrow  for  your  drawing  ma- 
terials?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  try  to  believe  that  there  is  absolutely 
nothing,  either  underfoot  or  overhead,  that  will  harm 
you?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  try  to  think  that  I  am  not  a  menace  to 
public  safety,  and  that  I  would  do  much  to  help  you, 
merely  because  I  would  be  glad  to  be  of  service?" 

"Yes." 

"Will  you  try  to  cultivate  the  idea  that  there  is  noth- 
ing in  all  this  world  that  would  hurt  you  purposely?" 

"Ruth!"  came  a  splitting  scream  in  gruff"  man-tones, 
keyed  in  deep  anger. 

"That  sounds  like  it!"  said  the  Girl,  and  catching  up 
her  skirts  she  ran  through  the  woods,  taking  'a  different 
route  toward  the  house. 

The  Harvester  sat  on  the  log  and  tried  to  think;  but 
there  are  times  when  the  numbed  brain  refuses  to  work, 
so  he  really  sat  and  suffered.  Belshazzar  whimpered 
and   licked   his   hands,   and   at  last  the  man   arose   and 


THE  HARVESTER  GOES  COURTING  167 

went  with  the  dog  to  the  wagon.  As  they  came  through 
Onabasha,  Betsy  turned  at  the  hospital  corner,  but  the 
Harvester  pulled  her  around  and  drove  toward  the 
country.  Not  until  they  crossed  the  railroad  did  he 
lift  his  head  and  then  he  drew  a  deep  breath  as  if  starved 
for  pure  air  and  spoke.  "Not  to-day  Betsy!  I  can't 
face  my  friends  just  now.  Someway  I  am  making  an 
awful  fist  of  things.  Everything  I  do  is  wrong.  She 
no  more  trusts  me  than  you  would  a  rattlesnake,  Bel- 
shazzar; and  from  all  appearance  she  takes  me  to  be 
almost  as  deadly.  What  must  have  been  her  experiences 
in  life  to  ingrain  fear  and  distrust  in  her  soul  at  that 
rate?  I  always  knew  I  was  not  handsome,  but  I  never 
before  regarded  my  appearance  as  alarming.  And  I 
'fixed  up,'  too!" 

The  Harvester  grinned  a  queer  little  twist  of  a  grin 
that  pulled  and  distorted  his  strained  face.  "Might 
as  well  have  gone  with  a  week's  beard,  a  soiled  shirt, 
and  a  leer!  And  I've  always  been  as  decent  as  I  knew! 
What's  the  reward  for  clean  living  anyway,  if  the  girl 
you   love  strikes  you   like  that?" 

Belshazzar  reached  across  and  kissed  him.  The 
Harvester  put  his  arm  around  the  dog.  In  the  man's 
disappointment  and  heart  hunger  he  leaned  his  head 
against  the  beast  and  said,  "I've  always  got  you  to  love 
and  protect  me,  anyway,  Belshazzar.  Maybe  the  man 
who  said  a  dog  was  a  man's  best  friend  was  right.  You 
always  trusted  me,  didn't  you  Bel?  And  you  never 
regretted    it    but    once,    and    that    wasn't    my    fault.     I 


168  THE  HARVESTER 

never  did  it!  If  I  did,  I'm  getting  good  and  well  paid 
for  it.  I'd  rather  be  kicked  until  all  the  ribs  of  one  side 
are  broken,  Bel,  than  to  swallow  the  dose  she  just  handed 
me.  I  tell  you  it  was  bitter,  lad!  What  am  I  going  to 
do?     Can't  you  help  me,  Bel?" 

Belshazzar  quivered  in  anxiety  to  offer  the  comfort 
he  could  not  speak. 

"Of  course  you  are  right!  You  always  are,  Bel!" 
said  the  Harvester.  "I  know  what  you  are  trying  to 
tell  me.  Sure  enough,  she  didn't  have  any  dream. 
I  am  afraid  she  had  the  bitterest  reality.  She  hasn't 
been  loving  a  vision  of  me,  working  and  searching  for 
me,  and  I  don't  mean  to  her  what  she  does  to  me.  Of 
course  I  see  that  I  must  be  patient  and  bide  my  time. 
If  there  is  anything  in  'like  begetting  like'  she  is  bound 
to  care  for  me  some  day,  for  I  love  her  past  all  expression, 
and  for  all  she  feels  I  might  as  well  save  my  breath. 
But  she  has  got  to  awake  some  day,  Bel.  She  can  make 
up  her  mind  to  that.  She  can't  see  'why.'  Over  and 
over!  I  wonder  what  she  would  think  if  I'd  up  and  tell 
her  'why'  with  no  frills.  She  will  drive  me  to  it  some 
day,  then  probably  the  shock  will  finish  her.  I  wonder 
if  Doc  was  only  fooling  or  if  he  really  would  do  what 
he  said.  It  might  wake  her  up,  anyway,  but  I'm  dubious 
as  to  the  result.  How  Uncle  Henry  can  roar!  He 
sounded  like  a  fog  horn.  I'd  love  to  try  my  muscle 
on  a  man  like  that.  No  wonder  she  is  afraid  of  him, 
if  she  is  of  me.  Afraid!  Well  of  all  things  I  ever  did 
expect,  Belshazzar,  that  is  the  limit." 


CHAPTER  X 
The  Chime  of  the  Blue  Bells 

THE  Harvester  finished  his  evening  work  and  went 
to  examine  the  cocoons.      Many    of  the  moths 
had    emerged  and    flown,  but  the  luna  cases  re- 
mained in  the  bottom  of  the  box.     As  he  stood  looking 
at  them  one  moved  and  he  smiled. 

"I'd  give  something  if  you  would  come  out  and  be 
ready  to  work  on  by  to-morrow  afternoon,"  he  said. 
"Possibly  you  would  so  interest  her  that  she  would 
forget  her  fear  of  me.  I'd  like  mighty  well  to  take 
you  along,  because  she  might  care  for  you,  and  I  do  need 
the  pattern  for  my  candlestick.  Believe  I'll  lay  you  in 
a  warmer  place." 

The  first  thing  the  next  morning  the  Harvester  looked 
and  found  the  open  cocoon  and  the  wet  moth  clinging 
by  its  feet  to  a  twig  he  had  placed  for  it. 

"Luck  is  with  me!"  he  exulted.  "I'll  carry  you  to 
her  and  be  mighty  careful  what  I  say,  and  maybe  she  will 
forget  about  the  fear." 

All  the  forenoon  he  cut  and  spread  boneset,  saffron, 
and  hemlock  on  the  trays  to  dry.  At  noon  he  put  on  a 
fresh  outfit,  ate  a  hasty  lunch,  and  drove  to  Onabasha. 

169 


170  THE  HARVESTER 

He  carried  the  moth  in  a  box,  and  as  he  started  he  picked 
up  a  rake.  He  went  to  an  art  store  and  bought  the 
pencils  and  paper  she  had  ordered.  He  wanted  to  pur- 
chase everything  he  saw  for  her,  but  he  was  fast  learning 
a  lesson  of  deep  caution.  If  he  took  more  than  she  or- 
dered, she  would  worry  over  paying,  and  if  he  refused 
to  accept  money,  she  would  put  that  everlasting  "why" 
at  him  again.  The  water-colour  paper  and  paint  he  could 
not  forego.  He  could  make  a  desire  to  have  the  moth 
coloured  explain  those,  he  thought. 

Then  he  went  to  a  furniture  store  and  bought  several 
articles,  and  forgetting  his  law  against  haste,  he  drove 
Betsy  full  speed  to  the  river.  He  was  rather  heavily 
ladened  as  he  went  up  the  bank,  and  it  was  only  one 
o'clock.  There  was  an  hour.  He  rolled  away  the  log, 
raked  together  and  removed  the  leaves  to  the  ground. 
He  tramped  the  earth  level  and  spread  a  large  cheap  porch 
rug.  On  this  he  opened  and  placed  a  little  folding  table 
and  chair.  On  the  table  he  spread  the  pencils,  paper, 
colour  box  and  brushes,  and  went  to  the  river  to  fill 
the  water  cup.  Then  he  sat  on  the  log  he  had  rolled 
to  one  side  and  waited.  After  two  hours  he  arose  and 
crept  as  close  the  house  as  he  could  through  the  woods, 
but  he  could  not  secure  a  glimpse  of  the  Girl.  He 
went  back  and  waited  an  hour  more,  and  then  undid 
his  work  and  removed  it.  When  he  came  to  the  moth 
his  face  was  very  grim  as  he  lifted  the  twig  and  helped 
the  beautiful  creature  to  climb  on  a  limb.  "You'll 
be  ready  to  fly  in  a  few  hours,"  he  said.     "If  I  keep  you 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    171 

in  a  box  you  will  ruin  your  wings  and  be  no  suitable  sub- 
ject, and  put  you  in  a  cyanide  jar  I  will  not.  I  am 
hurt  too  badly  myself.  I  wonder  if  what  Doc  said  was 
the  right  way!     It's  certainly  a  temptation." 

Then  he  went  home;  and  again  Betsy  veered  at  the 
hospital,  and  once  more  the  Harvester  explained  to  her 
that  he  did  not  want  to  see  the  doctor.  That  evening 
and  the  following  forenoon  were  difficult,  but  the  Harves- 
ter lived  through  them,  and  in  the  afternoon  went  back 
to  the  woods,  spread  his  rug,  and  set  up  the  table.  Only 
one  streak  of  luck  brightened  the  gloom  in  his  heart. 
A  yellow  emperor  had  emerged  in  the  night,  and  now 
occupied  the  place  of  yesterday's  luna.  She  never  need 
know  it  was  not  the  one  he  wanted,  and  it  would  make 
an  excuse  for  the  colour  box. 

He  was  watching  intently  and  saw  her  coming  a  long 
way  off.  He  noticed  that  she  looked  neither  right  nor 
left,  but  came  straight  as  if  walking  a  bridge.  As  she 
reached  the  place  she  glanced  hastily  around  and  then 
at  him.  The  Harvester  forgave  her  everything  as  he 
saw  the  look  of  relief  with  which  she  stepped  upon  the 
carpet.     Then  she  turned  to  him. 

"I  won't  have  to  ask  'why'  this  time,"  she  said.  "I 
know  that  you  did  it  because  I  was  baby  enough  to  tell 
what  a  coward  I  am.  I'm  sure  you  can't  afford  it,  and 
I  know  you  shouldn't  have  done  it,  but  oh,  what  a 
comfort!  If  you  will  promise  never  to  do  any  such 
expensive,  foolish,  kind  thing  again,  I'll  say  thank  you 
this    time.     I    couldn't    come   yesterday,    because   Aunt 


172  THE  HARVESTER 

Molly  was  worse  and  Uncle  Henry  was  at  home  all 
day." 

"I  supposed  it  was  something  like  that,"  said  the 
Harvester. 

She  advanced  and  handed  him  the  roll  of  bills. 

"I  had  a  feeling  you  would  be  reckless,"  she  said.  "I 
saw  it  in  your  face,  so  I  came  back  as  soon  as  I  could 
steal  away,  and  sure  enough,  there  lay  your  money  and 
the  books  and  everything.  I  hid  them  in  the  thicket, 
so  they  will  be  all  right.  I've  almost  prayed  it  wouldn't 
rain.  I  didn't  dare  carry  them  to  the  house.  Please 
take  the  money.  I  haven't  time  to  argue  about  it  or 
strength,  but  of  course  I  can't  possibly  use  it  unless 
I  earn  it.  I'm  so  anxious  to  see  the  pencils  and 
paper." 

The  Harvester  thrust  the  money  into  his  pocket.  The 
Girl  went  to  the  table,  opened  and  spread  the  paper, 
and  took  out  the  pencils. 

"Is  my  subject  in  here?"  she  touched  the  colour  box. 

"No,  the  other." 

"Is  it  alive?     May  I  open  it?" 

"We  will  be  very  careful  at  first,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"It  only  left  its  case  in  the  night  and  may  fly.  When 
the  weather  is  so  warm  the  wings  develop  rapidly.  Per- 
haps if  I  remove  the  lid " 

He  took  off  the  cover,  exposing  a  big  moth,  its  lovely, 
pale  yellow  wings,  flecked  with  heliotrope,  outspread  as 
it  clung  to  a  twig  in  the  box.     The  Girl  leaned  forward. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    173 

"One  of  the  big  night  moths  that  emerge  and  fly  a 
few  hours  in  June." 

"Is  this  what  you  want  for  your  candlestick?" 

"If  I  can't  do  better.  There  is  one  other  I  prefer, 
but  it  may  not  come  at  a  time  that  you  can  get  it  right." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  'right'?" 

"So  that  you  can  copy  it  before  it  wants  to  fly." 

"Why  don't  you  chloroform  and  pin  it  until  I  am 
ready?" 

"I  am  not  in  the  business  of  killing  and  impaling  ex- 
quisite creatures  like  that." 

"Do  you  mean  that  if  I  can't  draw  it  when  it  is  just 
right  you  will  let  it  go?" 

"I  do." 

"Why?" 

"I  told  you  why." 

"  I  know  you  said  you  were  not  in  the  business,  but  why 
wouldn't  you  take  only  one  you  really  wanted  to  use?" 

"I  would  be  afraid,"  replied  the  Harvester. 

"Afraid?     You!" 

"I  must  have  a  mighty  good  reason  before  I  kill," 
said  the  man.  "I  cannot  give  life;  I  have  no  right  to 
take  it  away.  I  will  let  my  statement  stand.  I  am 
afraid." 

"Of  what  please?" 

"An  indefinable  something  that  follows  me  and  makes 
me  suffer  if  I  am  wantonly  cruel." 

"Is  there  any  particular  pose  in  which  you  want  this 
bird  placed?" 


174  THE  HARVESTER 

"Allow  me  to  present  you  to  the  yellow  emperor, 
known  in  the  books  as  eacles  imperialist  he  said.  "I 
want  him  as  he  clings  naturally  and  life  size." 

She  took  up   a  pencil. 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  said  the  Harvester,  "would  you 
draw  on  this  other  paper?  I  very  much  want  the  colour, 
also,  and  you  can  use  it  on  this.  I  brought  a  box  along, 
and  I'll  get  you  water.     I  had  it  all  ready  yesterday." 

"Did   you   have   this   same   moth?" 

"No,   I  had   another." 

"Did  you  have  the  one  you  wanted  most?" 

"Yes but  it's  no  difference." 

"And  you  let  it  go  because  I  was  not  here?" 

"No.  It  went  on  account  of  exquisite  beauty.  If 
kept  in  confinement  it  would  struggle  and  break  its 
wings.  You  see,  that  one  was  a  delicate  green,  where 
this  is  yellow,  plain  pale  blue  green,  with  a  lavender 
rib  here,  and  long  curled  trailers  edged  with  pale  yellow, 
and  eye  spots  rimmed  with  red  and  black." 

As  the  Harvester  talked  he  indicated  the  points  of 
difference  with  a  pencil  he  had  picked  up;  now  he  laid  it 
down  and  retreated  beyond  the  limits  of  the  rug. 

"I  see,"  said  the  Girl.     "And  this  is  colour?" 

She  touched  the  box. 

"A  few  colours,  rather,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I 
selected  enough  to  fill  the  box,  with  the  help  of  the  clerk 
who  sold  them  to  me.  If  they  are  not  right,  I  have  per- 
mission to  return  and  exchange  them  for  anything  you 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    175 

With  eager  fingers  she  opened  the  box,  and  bent  over 
it  a  face  filled  with  interest. 

"Oh  how  I've  always  wanted  this!  I  scarcely  can 
wait  to  try  it.  I  do  hope  I  can  have  it  for  my  very  own. 
Was  it  quite  expensive?" 

"No.  Very  cheap!"  said  the  Harvester.  "The  paper 
isn't  worth  mentioning.  The  little,  empty  tin  box  was 
only  a  few  cents,  and  the  paints  differ  according  to 
colour.  Some  appear  to  be  more  than  others.  I  was 
surprised  that  the  outfit  was  so  inexpensive." 

A  skeptical  little  smile  wavered  on  the  Girl's  face  as 
she  drew  her  slender  fingers  across  the  trays  of  bright 
colour. 

"If  one  dared  accept  your  word,  you  really  would  be 
a  comfort,"  she  said,  as  she  resolutely  closed  the  box, 
pushed  it  away,  and  picked  up  a  pencil. 

"If  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  inquire  at  the  banks, 
post  office,  express  office,  hospital  or  of  any  druggist 
in  Onabasha,  you  will  find  that  my  word  is  exactly  as 
good  as  my  money,  and  taken  quite  as  readily." 

"I  didn't  say  I  doubted  you.  I  have  no  right  to 
do  that  until  I  feel  you  deceive  me.  What  I  said  was 
'dared  accept,'  which  means  I  must  not,  because  I  have 
no  right.  But  you  make  one  wonder  what  you  would 
do  if  you  were  coaxed  and  asked  for  things  and  led  by 
insinuations." 

"I  can  tell  you  that,"  said  the  Harvester.  "It  would 
depend  altogether  on  who  wanted  anything  of  me  and 
what  they  asked.     If  you  would  undertake  to  coax  and 


176  THE  HARVESTER 

insinuate,  you  never  would  get  it  done,  because  I'd  see 
what  you  needed  and  have  it  at  hand  before  you  had 
time." 

The  Girl  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"Now  don't  spring  your  recurrent  'why'  on  me," 
said  the  Harvester.  "I'll  tell  you  'why'  some  of  these 
days.  Just  now  answer  me  this  question:  Do  you  want 
me  to  remain  here  or  leave  until  you  finish?  Which 
way  would  you  be  least  afraid?" 

"I  am  not  at  all  afraid  on  the  rug  and  with  my  work," 
she  said.  "If  you  want  to  hunt  ginseng  go  by  all 
means." 

"I  don't  want  to  hunt  anything,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"But  if  you  are  more  comfortable  with  me  away,  I'll 
be  glad  to  go.     I'll  leave  the  dog  with  you." 

He  gave  a  short  whistle  and  Belshazzar  came  bound- 
ing to  him.  The  Harvester  stepped  to  the  Girl's  side, 
and  dropping  on  one  knee,  he  drew  his  hand  across  the 
rug  close  to  her  skirts. 

"Right  here,  Belshazzar,"  he  said.  "Watch!  You 
are  on  guard,  Bel." 

"Well  of  all  names  for  a  dog!"  exclaimed  the  Girl. 
"Why  did  you  select  that?" 

"My  mother  named  my  first  dog  Belshazzar,  and 
taught  me  why;  so  each  of  the  three  I've  owned  since  have 
been  christened  the  same.  It  means  'to  protect'  and 
that  is  the  office  all  of  them  perform;  this  one  espe- 
cially has  filled  it  admirably.  Once  I  failed  him,  but 
he  never  has  gone  back  on  me.     You  see  he  is  not  a 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    177 

particle  afraid  of  me.  Every  step  I  take,  he  is  at  my 
heels." 

"So  was  Bill  Sikes'  dog,  if  I  remember." 

The  Harvester  laughed. 

"Bel,"  he  said,  "if  you  could  speak  you'd  say  that  was 
an  ugly  one,  wouldn't  you?" 

The  dog  sprang  up  and  kissed  the  face  of  the  man 
and  rubbed  a  loving  head  against  his  breast. 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Now  lie  down 
and  protect  this  woman  as  carefully  as  you  ever  watched 
in  your  life.  And  incidentally,  Bel,  tell  her  that  she 
can't  exterminate  me  more  than  once  a  day,  and  the 
performance  is  accomplished  for  the  present.  I  refuse 
to  be  a  willing  sacrifice.  'So  was  Bill  Sikes'  dog  I'  What 
do  you  think  of  that,   Bel?" 

The  Harvester  arose  and  turned  to  go. 

"What  if  this  thing  attempts  to  fly?"  she  asked. 

"Your  pardon,"  said  the  Harvester.  "If  the  emperor 
moves,  slide  the  lid  over  the  box  a  few  seconds,  until  he 
settles  and  clings  quietly  again,  and  then  slowly  draw  it 
away.  If  you  are  careful  not  to  jar  the  table  heavily 
he  will  not  go  for  hours  yet." 

Again   he   turned. 

"If  there  is  no  danger,  why  do  you  leave  the  dog?" 

"For  company,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  thought 
you  would  prefer  an  animal  you  are  not  afraid  of  to  a 
man  you  are.  But  let  me  tell  you  there  is  no  necessity 
for  either.  I  know  a  woman  who  goes  alone  and  un- 
afraid through  every  foot  of  woods  in  this  part  of  the 


178  THE  HARVESTER 

country.  She  has  climbed,  crept,  and  waded,  and  she 
tells  me  she  never  saw  but  two  venomous  snakes  this 
side  of  Michigan.  Nothing  ever  dropped  on  her  or 
sprang  at  her.  She  feels  as  secure  in  the  woods  as  she 
does  at  home." 

"Isn't  she  afraid  of  snakes?" 

"She  dislikes  snakes,  but  she  is  not  afraid  or  she  would 
not  risk  encountering  them  daily." 

"Do  you   ever  find   any?" 

"Harmless  little  ones,  often.  That  is,  Bel  does.  He 
is  always  nosing  for  them,  because  he  understands  that 
I  work  in  the  earth.  I  think  I  have  encountered  three 
dangerous  ones  in  my  life.  I  will  guarantee  you  will 
not  find  one  in  these  woods.  They  are  too  open  and 
too   much    cleared." 

"Then  why  leave  the  dog?" 

"I  thought,"  said  the  Harvester  patiently,  "that  your 
uncle  might  have  turned  in  some  of  his  cattle,  or  if  pigs 
came  here  the  dog  could  chase  them  away." 

She  looked  at  him  with  utter  panic  in  her  face. 

"I  am  far  more  afraid  of  a  cow  than  a  snake!"  she 
cried.     "It  is  so  much  bigger!" 

"How  did  you  ever  come  into  these  woods  alone  far 
enough  to  find  the  ginseng?"  asked  the  Harvester.  "An- 
swer me  that!" 

"I  wore  Uncle  Henry's  top  boots  and  carried  a  rake, 
and  I  suffered  tortures,"  she  replied. 

"But  you  hunted  until  you  found  what  you  wanted, 
and  came  again  to  keep  watch  on  it?" 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    179 

"I  was  driven  —  simply  forced.  There's  no  use  to 
discuss  it!" 

"Well  thank  the  Lord  for  one  thing,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "You  didn't  appear  half  so  terrified  at  the  sight 
of  me  as  you  did  at  the  mere  mention  of  a  cow.  I  have 
risen  inestimably  in  my  own  self-respect.  Belshazzar, 
you  may  pursue  the  elusive  chipmunk.  I  am  going  to 
guard  this  woman  myself,  and  please,  kind  fates,  send 
a  ferocious  cow  this  way,  in  order  that  I  may  prove  my 
valour." 

The  Girl's  face  flushed  slightly,  and  she  could  not 
restrain  a  laugh.  That  was  all  the  Harvester  hoped  for 
and  more.  He  went  beyond  the  edge  of  the  rug  and 
sat  on  the  leaves  under  a  tree.  She  bent  over  her  work 
and  only  bird  and  insect  notes  and  occasionally  Bel- 
shazzar's  excited  bark  broke  the  silence.  The  Harvester 
stretched  on  the  ground,  his  eyes  feasting  on  the  Girl. 
Intensely  he  watched  every  movement.  If  a  squirrel 
barked  she  gave  a  nervous  start,  so  precipitate  it  seemed 
as  if  it  must  hurt.  If  a  windfall  came  rattling  down 
she  appeared  ready  to  fly  in  headlong  terror  in  any  di- 
rection. At  last  she  dropped  her  pencil  and  looked 
at  him  helplessly. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"The  silence  and  thece  awful  crashes  when  one  doesn't 
know  what  is  coming,"  she  said. 

"Will  it  bother  you  if  I  talk?  Perhaps  the  sound 
of  my  voice  will  help?" 

"I  am  accustomed  to  working  when  people  talk,  and  it 


180  THE  HARVESTER 

will  be  a  comfort.  I  may  be  able  to  follow  you,  and  that 
will  prevent  me  from  thinking.  There  are  dreadful  things 
in  my  mind  when  they  are  not  driven  out.  Please  talk! 
Tell  me  about  the  herbs  you  gathered  this  morning." 

The  Harvester  gave  the  Girl  one  long  look  as  she  bent 
over  her  work.  He  was  vividly  conscious  of  the  graceful 
curves  of  her  lithe  figure,  the  coil  of  dark,  silky  hair, 
softly  waving  around  her  temples  and  neck,  and  when  her 
eyes  turned  in  his  direction  he  knew  that  it  was  only  the 
white,  drawn  face  that  restrained  him.  He  was  almost 
forced  to  tell  her  how  he  loved  and  longed  for  her;  about 
the  home  he  had  prepared;  of  a  thousand  personal  in- 
terests. Instead,  he  took  a  firm  grip  and  said  casually, 
"Foxglove  harvest  is  over.  This  plant  has  to  be  taken 
when  the  leaves  are  in  second  year  growth  and  at  bloom 
time.  I  have  stripped  my  mullein  beds  of  both  leaves 
and  flowers.  I  finished  a  week  ago.  Beyond  lies  a 
stretch  of  Parnassus  grass  that  made  me  think  of  you, 
it  was  so  white  and  delicate.  I  want  you  to  see  it.  It 
will  be  lovely  in  a  few  weeks  more." 

"You  never  had  seen  me  a  week  ago." 
"Oh   hadn't   I?"   said   the  Harvester.     "Well   maybe 
I    dreamed    about   you    then.     I    am    a   great   dreamer. 
Once  I  had  a  dream  that  may  interest  you  some  day, 
after  you've  overcome  your  fear  of  me.     Now  this  bed 
of  which  I  was  speaking  is  a  picture  in  September.     You 
must  arrange  to  drive  home  with  me  and  see  it  then." 
"For  what  do  you  sell  foxglove  and  mullein?" 
"Foxglove  for  heart  trouble,  and  mullein   for  catarrh. 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    181 

I  get  ten  cents  a  pound  for  foxglove  leaves  and  five  for 
mullein  and  from  seventy-five  to  a  dollar  for  flowers 
of  the  latter,  depending  on  how  well  I  preserve  the  colour 
in  drying  them.  They  must  be  sealed  in  bottles  and 
handled  with  extreme  care." 

"Then  if  I  wasn't  too  childish  to  be  out  picking  them, 
I  could  be  earning  seventy-five  cents  a  pound  for  mullein 
blooms?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester,  "but  until  you  learned  the 
trick  of  stripping  them  rapidly  you  scarcely  could  gather 
what  would  weigh  two  pounds  a  day,  when  dried.  Not 
to  mention  the  fact  that  you  would  have  to  stand  and 
work  mostly  in  hot  sunshine,  because  mullein  likes  open 
roads  and  fields  and  sunny  hills.  Now  you  can  sit  se- 
curely in  the  shade,  and  in  two  hours  you  can  make  me  a 
pattern  of  that  moth,  for  which  I  would  pay  a  designer 
of  the  arts  and  crafts  shop  five  dollars,  so  of  course  you 
shall  have  the  same." 

"Oh  no!"  she  cried  in  swift  panic.  "You  were  charged 
too  much!     It  isn't  worth  a  dollar,  even!' 

"On  the  contrary  the  candlestick  on  which  I  shall 
use  it  will  be  invaluable  when  I  finish  it,  and  five  is 
very  little  for  the  cream  of  my  design.  I  paid  just 
right.  You  can  earn  the  same  for  all  you  can  do.  If 
you  can  embroider  linen,  they  pay  good  prices  for  that, 
too,  and  wood  carving,  metal  work,  or  leather  things. 
May  I  see  how  you  are  coming  on?" 

"Please  do,"  she  said. 

The  Harvester  sprang  up  and  looked  over  the  Girl's 


1 82  THE  HARVESTER 

shoulder.  He  could  not  suppress  an  exclamation  of 
delight. 

"Perfect!"  he  cried.  "You  can  surpass  their  best 
drafting  at  the  shop!  Your  fortune  is  made.  Any  time 
you  want  to  go  to  Onabasha  you  can  make  enough  to 
pay  your  board,  dress  you  well,  and  save  something  every 
week.  You  must  leave  here  as  soon  as  you  can  manage 
it.     When  can  you  go?" 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  wearily.  "I'd  hate  to  tell 
you  how  full  of  aches  I  am.  I  could  not  work  much  just 
now,  if  I  had  the  best  opportunities  in  the  world.  I 
must  grow  stronger." 

"You  should  not  work  at  anything  until  you  are  well," 
he  said.  "It  is  a  crime  against  nature  to  drive  yourself. 
Why  will  you  not  allow " 

"Do  you  really  think,  with  a  little  practice,  I  can 
draw  designs  that  will  sell?" 

The  Harvester  picked  up  the  sheet.  The  work  was 
delicate  and  exact.     He  could  see  no  way  to  improve  it. 

"You  know  it  will  sell,"  he  said  gently,  "because  you 
already  have  sold  such  work." 

"But  not  for  the  prices  you  offer. " 

"The  prices  I  name  are  going  to  be  for  new,  original 
designs.  I've  got  a  thousand  in  my  head,  that  old 
Mother  Nature  shows  me  in  the  woods  and  on  the  water 
every  day." 

"But  those  are  yours;  I  can't  take  them." 

"You  must,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  only  see  and 
recognize   studies;   I    can't   materialize   them,    and   until 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    183 

they  are  drawn,  no  one  can  profit  by  them.  In  this 
partnership  we  revolutionize  decorative  art.  There 
are  actually  birds  besides  fat  robins  and  nondescript  swal- 
lows. The  crane  and  heron  do  not  monopolize  the  water. 
Wild  rose  and  golden-rod  are  not  the  only  flowers.  The 
other  day  I  was  gathering  lobelia.  The  seeds  are  used 
in  tonic  preparations.  It  has  an  upright  stem  with 
flowers  scattered  along  it.  In  itself  it  is  not  much,  but 
close  beside  it  always  grows  its  cousin,  tall  bell-flower. 
As  the  name  indicates,  the  flowers  are  bell  shape  and 
I  can't  begin  to  describe  their  grace,  beauty,  and  delicate 
blue  colour.  They  ring  my  strongest  call  to  worship. 
My  work  keeps  me  in  the  woods  so  much  I  remain 
there  for  my  religion  also.  Whenever  I  find  these 
flowers  I  always  pause  for  a  little  service  of  my  own 
that  begins  by  reciting  these  lines: 

'"Neath  cloistered  boughs,  each  floral  bell  thatswingeth 
And  tolls  its  perfume  on  the  passing  air, 

Makes  Sabbath  in  the  fields,  and  ever  ringeth 
A  call  to  prayer." 

"Beautiful!"  said  the  Girl. 

"It's  mighty  convenient,"  explained  the  Harvester. 
"By  my  method,  you  see,  you  don't  have  to  wait  for 
your  day  and  hour  of  worship.  Anywhere  the  blue  bell 
rings  its  call  it  is  Sunday  in  the  woods  and  in  your  heart. 
After  I  recite  that,  I  pray  my  prayer." 

"Go  on!"  said  the  Girl.      "This  is  no  place  to  stop." 

"It  is  always  one  and  the  same  prayer,  and  there  are 
only  two  lines  of  it,"  said  the  Harvester.     "It  runs  this 


1 84  THE  HARVESTER 

way Let    me  take  your  pencil    and  I  will  write    it 

for  you." 

He  bent  over  her  shoulder,  and  traced  these  lines  on 
a  scrap  of  the  wrapping  paper: 

"  Almighty  Evolver  of  the  Universe: 
Help  me  to  keep  my  soul  and  body  clean, 
And  at  all  times  to  do  unto  others  as  I  would  be  done  by. 
Amen." 

The  Girl  took  the  slip  and  sat  studying  it;  then  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  curiously,  but  with  a  tinge  of 
awe  in  them. 

"I  can  see  you  standing  over  a  blue,  bell-shaped 
flower  reciting  those  exquisite  lines  and  praying  this 
wonderful  prayer,"  she  said.  " Yesterday  you  allowed 
the  moth  you  were  willing  to  pay  five  dollars  for  a  drawing 
of,  to  go,  because  you  wouldn't  risk  breaking  its  wings. 
Why  you  are  more  like  a  woman!" 

A  red  stream  crimsoned  the  Harvester's  face. 

"Well  heretofore  I  have  been  considered  strictly  mas- 
culine," he  said.  "To  appreciate  beauty  or  to  try  to 
be  just  commonly  decent  is  not  exclusively  feminine. 
You  must  remember  there  are  painters,  poets,  musi- 
cians, workers  in  art  along  almost  any  line  you  could 
mention,  and  no  one  calls  them  feminine,  but  there  is 
one  good  thing  if  I  am.  You  need  no  longer  fear  me. 
If  you  should  see  me,  muck  covered,  grubbing  in  the 
earth  or  on  a  raft  washing  roots  in  the  lake,  you  would 
not  consider  me  like  a  woman." 

"Would   it  be   any  discredit  if  I   did?     I   think  not. 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    185 

I  merely  meant  that  most  men  would  not  see  or  hear 

the  blue  bell  at  all and  as  for  the  poem  and  prayer! 

If  the  woods  make  a  man  with  such  fibre  in  his   soul, 
I  must  learn  them  if  they  half  kill  me." 

"You  harp  on  death.     Try  to  forget  the  word." 

"I  have  faced  it  for  months,  and  seen  it  do  its  grinding 
worst  very  recently  to  the  only  thing  on  earth  I  loved  or 
that  loved  me.  I  have  no  desire  to  forget!  Tell  me 
more  about  the  plants." 

"Forgive  me,"  said  the  Harvester  gently.  "Just 
now  I  am  collecting  catnip  for  the  infant  and  nervous 
people,  hoarhound  for  colds  and  dyspepsia,  boneset  heads 
and  flowers  for  the  same  purpose.  There  is  a  heavy  head 
of  white  bloom  with  wonderful  lacy  leaves,  called  yarrow. 
I  take  the  entire  plant  for  a  tonic  and  blessed  thistle 
leaves  and  flowers  for  the  same  purpose." 

"That  must  be  what  I  need,"  interrupted  the  Girl. 
"Half  the  time  I  believe  I  have  a  little  fever,  but  I 
couldn't  have  dyspepsia,  because  I  never  want  anything 
to  eat;  perhaps  the  tonic  would  make  me  hungry." 

"Promise  me  you  will  tell  that  to  the  doctor  who 
comes  to  see  your  aunt,  and  take  what  he  gives  you." 

"No  doctor  comes  to  see  my  aunt.  She  is  merely 
playing  lazy  to  get  out  of  work.  There  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  her." 

"Then   why " 

"My  uncle  says  that.  Really,  she  could  not  stand  and 
walk  across  a  room  alone.     She  is  simply  worn  out." 

"I  shall  report  the  case,"  said  the  Harvester  instantly. 


1 86  THE  HARVESTER 

"You  better  not!"  said  the  Girl.  "There  must  be  a 
mistake  about  you  knowing  my  uncle.  Tell  me  more 
of  the  flowers." 

The  Harvester  drew  a  deep  breath  and  continued: 

"These  I  just  have  named  I  take  at  bloom  time; 
next  month  come  purple  thorn  apple,  jimson  weed,  and 
hemlock." 

"Isn't  that  poison?" 

"Half  the  stuff  I  handle  is." 

"Aren't   you    afraid?" 

"Terribly,"  said  the  Harvester  in  laughing  voice. 
"But  I  want  the  money,  the  sick  folk  need  the  medicine, 
and  I  drink  water." 

The  Girl  laughed  also. 

"Look  here!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Why  not  tell 
me  just  as  closely  as  you  can  about  your  aunt,  and 
let  me  fix  something  for  her;  or  if  you  are  afraid  to 
trust  me,  let  me  have  my  friend  of  whom  I  spoke  yes- 
terday." 

"Perhaps  I  am  not  so  much  afraid  as  I  was,"  said 
the  Girl.  "I  wish  I  could!  How  could  I  explain  where 
I  got  it  and  I  wonder  if  she  would  take  it." 

"Give  it  to  her  without  any  explanation,"  said  the 
Harvester.  "Tell  her  it  will  make  her  stronger  and  she 
must  use  it.  Tell  me  exactly  how  she  is,  and  I  will  fix 
up  some  harmless  remedies  that  may  help,  and  can  do 
no  harm." 

"She  simply  has  been  neglected,  overworked,  and 
abused  until  she  has  lain  down,  turned  her  face  to  the 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    187 

wall,  and  given  up  hope.  I  think  it  is  too  late.  I 
think  the  end  will  come  soon.  But  I  wish  you  would 
try.     I'll  gladly  pay " 

"Don't!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Not  for  things  that 
grow  in  the  woods  and  that  I  prepare.  Don't  think  of 
money  every  minute." 

"I  must,"  she  said  with  forced  restraint.     "It  is  the 

price  of  life.     Without   it    one  suffers horribly 

as  I  know.     What  other  plants  do  you  gather?" 

"Saffron,"  answered  the  Harvester.  "A  beautiful 
thing!  You  must  see  it.  Tall,  round  stems,  lacy,  del- 
icate leaves,  big  heads  of  bright  yellow  bloom,  touched 
with  colour  so  dark  it  appears  black  —  one  of  the  loveliest 
plants  that  grows.  You  should  see  my  big  bed  of  it  in 
a  week  or  two  more.     It  makes  a  picture." 

The  words  recalled  him  to  the  Girl.  He  turned  to 
study  her.  He  forgot  his  commission  and  chafed  at 
conventions  that  prevented  his  doing  what  he  saw  was 
required  so  urgently.  Fearing  she  would  notice,  ho 
gazed  away  through  the  forest  and  tried  to  think,  to 
plan. 

"You  are  not  making  noise  enough,"  she  said. 

So  absorbed  was  the  Harvester  he  scarcely  heard  her. 
In  an  attempt  to  obey  he  began  to  whistle  softly.  A 
tiny  goldfinch  in  a  nest  of  thistle  down  and  plant  fibre 
in  the  branching  of  a  bush  ten  feet  above  him  stuck  her 
head  over  the  brim  and  inquired,  "P'tseet?"  "Pt'see!" 
answer  the  Harvester.  That  began  the  duet.  Before 
the  question  had  been  asked  and  answered  a  half  dozen 


1 88  THE  HARVESTER 

times  a  catbird  intruded  its  voice  and  hearing  a  reply 
came  through  the  bushes  to  investigate.     A  wren  followed 

and  became  very  saucy.     From one  could  not  see 

where,  came  a  vireo,  and  almost  at  the  same  time  a 
chewink  had  something  to  say. 

Instantly  the  Harvester  answered.  Then  a  blue  jay 
came  chattering  to  ascertain  what  all  the  fuss  was  about, 
and  the  Harvester  carried  on  a  conversation  that  called 
up  the  remainder  of  the  feathered  tribe.  A  brilliant 
cardinal  came  tearing  through  the  thicket,  his  beady 
black  eyes  snapping,  and  demanded  to  know  if 
any  one  were  harming  his  mate,  brooding  under  a 
wild  grape  leaf  in  a  scrub  elm  on  the  river  embankment. 
A  brown  thrush  silently  slipped  like  a  snake  between 
shrubs  and  trees,  and  catching  the  universal  excite- 
ment, began  to  flirt  his  tail  and  utter  a  weird,  whistling 
cry. 

With  one  eye  on  the  bird,  and  the  other  on  the  Girl 
sitting  in  amazed  silence,  the  Harvester  began  working 
for  effect.  He  lay  quietly,  but  in  turn  he  answered  a 
dozen  birds  so  accurately  they  thought  their  mates  were 
calling,  and  closer  and  closer  they  came.  An  oriole  in 
orange  and  black  heard  his  challenge,  and  flew  up  the 
river  bank,  answering  at  steady  intervals  for  quite  a 
time  before  it  was  visible,  and  in  resorting  to  the  last 
notes  he  could  think  of  a  quail  whistled  "Bob  White" 
and  a  shitepoke,  skulking  along  the  river  bank,  stopped 
and  cried,  "Cowk,  cowk!" 

At  his  limit  of  calls  the  Harvester  changed  his  notes 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS   189 

and  whistled  and  cried  bits  of  bird  talk  in  tone  with 
every  mellow  accent  and  inflection  he  could  manage. 
Gradually  the  excitement  subsided,  the  birds  flew  and 
tilted  closer,  turned  their  sleek  heads,  peered  with  bright 
eyes,  and  ventured  on  and  on  until  the  very  bravest, 
the  wren  and  the  jay,  were  almost  in  touch.  Then, 
tired  of  hunting,  Belshazzar  came  racing  and  the  little 
feathered  people  scattered  in  precipitate  flight. 

"How  do  you  like  that  kind  of  a  noise?"  inquired  the 
Harvester. 

The  Girl  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"Of  course  you  know  that  was  the  most  exquisite 
sight  I  ever  saw,"  she  said.  "I  never  shall  forget  it. 
I  did  not  think  there  were  that  many  different  birds  in 
the  whole  world.  Of  all  the  gaudy  colours!  And  they 
came  so  close  you  could  have  reached  out  and  touched 
them." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester  calmly.  "Birds  are  never 
afraid  of  me.  At  Medicine  Woods,  when  I  call  them 
like  that,  many,  most  of  them,  in  fact,  eat  from  my 
hand.  If  you  ever  have  looked  at  me  enough  to  notice 
bulgy  pockets,  they  are  full  of  wheat.  These  birds 
are  strangers,  but  I'll  wager  you  that  in  a  week  I  can 
make  them  take  food  from  me.  Of  course,  my  own 
birds  know  me,  because  they  are  around  every  day. 
It  is  much  easier  to  tame  them  in  winter,  when  the 
snow  has  fallen  and  food  is  scarce,  but  it  only  takes 
a    little    while    to    win    a     bird's    confidence    at    any 


i9o  THE  HARVESTER 

"Birds  don't  know  what  there  is  to  be  afraid  of," 
she  said. 

:'Your  pardon,"  said  the  Harvester,  "but  I  am  famil- 
iar with  them,  and  that  is  not  correct.  They  have  more 
to  fear  than  human  beings.  No  one  is  going  to  kill  you 
merely  to  see  if  he  can  shoot  straight  enough  to  hit. 
Your  life  is  not  in  danger  because  you  have  magnificent 
hair  that  some  woman  would  like  for  an  ornament. 
You  will  not  be  stricken  out  in  a  flash  because  there  are 
a  few  bits  of  meat  on  your  frame  some  one  wants  to  eat. 
No  one  will  set  a  seductive  trap  for  you,  and,  if  you  are 
tempted  to  enter  it,  shut  you  from  freedom  and  natural 
diet,  in  a  cage  so  small  you  can't  turn  around  without 
touching  bars.  You  are  in  a  secure  and  free  position 
compared  with  the  birds.  I  also  have  observed  that 
they  know  guns,  many  forms  of  traps,  and  all  of  them 
decide  by  the  mere  manner  of  a  man's  passing 
through  the  woods  whether  he  is  a  friend  or  an 
enemy.  Birds  know  more  than  many  people  realize. 
They  do  not  always  correctly  estimate  gun  range,  they 
are  foolishly  venturesome  at  times  when  they  want 
food,  but  they  know  many  more  things  than  most 
people  give  them  credit  for  understanding.  The  great- 
est trouble  with  the  birds  is  they  are  too  willing 
to  trust  us  and  be  friendly,  so  they  are  often 
deceived." 

"That  sounds  as  if  you  were  right,"  said  the  Girl. 

"I  am  of  the  woods,  so  I  know  I  am,"  answered  the 
Harvester. 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    191 

"Will  you  look  at  this  now?" 

He   examined   the    drawing   closely. 

"Where  did  you  learn?"  he  inquired. 

"My  mother.  She  was  educated  to  her  finger  tips. 
She  drew,  painted,  played  beautifully,  sang  well,  and  she 
had  read  almost  all  the  best  books.  Besides  what  I  learned 
at  high  school  she  taught  me  all  I  know.  Her  embroid- 
ery always  brought  higher  prices  than  mine,  try  as  I 
might.  I  never  saw  any  one  else  make  such  a  dainty 
accurate  little  stitch  as  she  could." 

"If  this  is  not  perfect,  I  don't  know  how  to  criticise 
it.  I  can  and  will  use  it  in  my  work.  But  I  have  one 
luna  cocoon  remaining  and  I  would  give  ten  dollars  for 
such  a  drawing  of  the  moth  before  it  flies.  It  may  open 
to-night  or  not  for  several  days.  If  your  aunt  should 
be  worse  and  you  cannot  come  to-morrow  and  the  moth 
emerges,  is  there  any  way  in  which  I  could  send  it  to 
you?" 

"What  could  I  do  with  it?" 

"I  thought  perhaps  you  could  take  a  piece  of  paper 
and  the  pencils  with  you,  and  secure  an  outline 
in  your  room.  It  need  not  be  worked  up  with 
all  the  detail  in  this.  Merely  a  skeleton  sketch  would 
do.  Could  I  leave  it  at  the  house  or  send  it  with 
some  one?" 

"No I  Oh  no!"  she  cried.  "Leave  it  here.  Put  it 
in  a  box  in  the  bushes  where  I  hid  the  books. 
What   are   you   going  to   do  with  these   things?" 


i92  THE  HARVESTER 

"Hide  them  in  the  thicket  and  scatter  leaves  over 
them." 

"What  if  it  rains?" 

"I  have  thought  of  that.  I  brought  a  few  yards  of 
oilcloth  to-day  and  they  will  be  safe  and  dry  if  it  pours." 

"Good!"  she  said.  "Then  if  the  moth  comes  out 
you  bring  it,  and  if  I  am  not  here,  put  it  under  the  cloth 
and  I  will  run  up  some  time  in  the  afternoon.  But 
if  I  were  you,  I  would  not  spread  the  rug  until  you 
know  if  I  can  remain.  I  have  to  steal  every  minute  I 
am  away,  and  any  day  uncle  takes  a  notion  to  stay  at 
home  I  dare  not  come." 

"Try  to  come  to-morrow.  I  am  going  to  bring  some 
medicine  for  your  aunt." 

"Put  it  under  the  cloth  if  I  am  not  here;  but  I  will 
come  if  I  can.  I  must  go  now;  I  have  been  away  far 
too  long." 

The  Harvester  picked  up  one  of  the  drug  pamphlets, 
laid  the  drawing  inside  it,  and  placed  it  with  his  other 
books.  Then  he  drew  out  his  pocket  book  and  laid  a 
five-dollar  bill  on  the  table  and  began  folding  up  the 
chair  and  putting  away  the  things.  The  Girl  looked  at 
the  money  with  eager  eyes. 

"Is  that  honestly  what  you  would  pay  at  the  arts 
and  crafts  place?" 

"It  is  the  customary  price  for  my  patterns." 

"And  are  you  sure  this  is  as  good?" 

"I  can  bring  you  some  I  have  paid  that  for,  and  let 
you  see  for  yourself  that  it  is  better." 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    193 

"I  wish  you  would!"  she  cried  eagerly.  "I  need  that 
money,  and  I  would  like  to  have  it  dearly,  if  I  really  have 
earned  it,  but  I  can't  touch  it  if  I  have  not." 

"Won't  you  accept  my  word?" 

"No.  I  will  see  the  other  drawings  first,  and  if  I 
think  mine  are  as  good,  I  will  be  glad  to  take  the  money 
to-morrow." 

"What  if  you   can't  come?" 

"Put  them  under  the  oilcloth.  I  watch  all  the  time 
and  I  think  Uncle  Henry  has  trained  even  the  boys  so 
they  don't  play  in  the  river  on  his  land.  I  never  see  a 
soul  here;  the  woods,  house,  and  everything  is  desolate 
until  he  comes  home  and  then  it  is  like "  she  paused. 

"I'll  say  it  for  you,"  said  the  Harvester  promptly. 
"Then  it  is  like  hell." 

"At  its  worst,"  supplemented  the  Girl.  Taking  pencils 
and  a  sheet  of  paper  she  went  swiftly  through  the  woods. 
Before  she  left  the  shelter  of  the  trees,  the  Harvester 
saw  her  busy  her  hands  with  the  front  of  her  dress,  and 
he  knew  that  she  was  concealing  the  drawing  material. 
The  colour  box  was  left,  and  he  said  things  as  he  put 
it  with  the  chair  and  table,  covered  them  with  the  rug 
and  oilcloth,  and  heaped  on  a  layer  of  leaves. 

Then  he  drove  to  the  city  and  Betsy  turned  at  the 
hospital  corner  with  no  interference.  He  could  face  his 
friend  that  day.  Despite  all  discouragements  he  felt 
reassured.  He  was  progressing.  Means  of  communi- 
cation had  been  established.  If  she  did  not  come, 
he  could  leave  a  note  and  tell  her  if  the  moth  had  not 


194  THE  HARVESTER 

emerged  and  how  sorry  he  was  to  have  missed  seeing 
her. 

"Hello,  lover!"  cried  Doctor  Carey  as  the  Harvester 
entered  the  office.     "Are  you  married  yet?" 

"No.  But  I'm  going  to  be,"  said  the  Harvester  with 
confidence. 

"Have  you  asked  her?" 

"No.  We  are  getting  acquainted.  She  is  too  close  to 
trouble,  too  ill,  and  too  worried  over  a  sick  relative  for 
me  to  intrude  myself;  it  would  be  brutal,  but  it's  a  temp- 
tation. Doc,  is  there  any  way  to  compel  a  man  to  provide 
medical  care  for  his  wife?" 

"Can  he  afford  it?" 

"Amply.  Anything!  Worth  thousands  in  land  and 
nobody  knows  what  in  money.     It's  Henry  Jameson." 

"The  meanest  man  I  ever  knew.  If  he  has  a  wife  it's 
a  marvel  she  has  survived  this  long.  Won't  he  provide 
for  her?" 

"I  suppose  he  thinks  he  has  when  she  has  a  bed  to  lie 
on  and  a  roof  to  cover  her.  He  won't  supply  food  she 
can  eat  and  medicine.     He  says  she  is  lazy." 

"What  do  you' think?" 

"I  quote  Miss  Jameson.  She  says  her  aunt  is  slowly 
dying  from  overwork  and  neglect." 

"David,  doesn't  it  seem  pretty  good,  when  you  say 
'Miss  Jameson'?" 

"Loveliest  sound  on  earth,  except  the  remainder  of  it." 

"What's  that?" 

"Ruth!" 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    195 

"Jove!  That  is  a  beautiful  name.  Ruth  Langston. 
It  will  go  well,  won't  it?" 

"Music  that  the  birds,  insects,  Singing  Water,  the 
trees,  and  the  breeze  can't  ever  equal.  I'm  holding  on 
with  all  my  might,  but  it's  tough,  Doc.  She's  in  such  a 
dreadful  place  and  position,  and  she  needs  so  much. 
She  is  sick.  Can't  you  give  me  a  prescription  for  each 
of  them?" 

"You  just  bet  I  can,"  said  the  doctor,  "if  you  can 
engineer  their  taking  them." 

"I  suppose  you'd  hold  their  noses  and  pour  stuff  down 
them." 

"I  would   if  necessary." 

"Well,    it   is." 

"All  right I'll  fix  something,   and  you  see  that 

they  use  it." 

"I  can  try,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"Try!     Pah!     You  aren't  half  a  man!" 

"That's  a  half  more  than  being  a  woman,  anyway." 

"She  called  you  feminine,  did  she?"  cried  the  doctor, 
dancing  and  laughing.  "  She  ought  to  see  you  harvesting 
skunk  cabbage  and  blue  flag  or  when  you  are  angry 
enough." 

The  doctor  left  the  room  and  it  was  a  half  hour  before 
he  returned. 

"Try  that  on  them  according  to  directions,"  he  said, 
handing  over  a  couple  of  bottles. 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  will!" 

"That  sounds  manly  enough." 


196  THE  HARVESTER 

"Oh  pother!  It's  not  that  I'm  not  a  man,  or  a  laggard 
in  love;  but  I'd  like  to  know  what  you'd  do  to  a  girl 
dumb  with  grief  over  the  recent  loss  of  her  mother,  who 
was  her  only  relative  worth  counting,  sick  from  God 
knows  what  exposure  and  privation,  and  now  a  dying 
relative  on  her  hands.  What  could  you  do?" 
"I'd  marry  her  and  pick  her  out  of  it!" 
"I  wouldn't  have  her,  if  she'd  leave  a  sick  woman  for 


me 


"I  wouldn't  either.  She's  got  to  stick  it  out  until 
her  aunt  grows  better,  and  then  I'll  go  out  there  and 
show  you  how  to  court  a  girl." 

"  I  guess  not!  You  keep  the  girl  you  did  court,  courted, 
and  you'll  have  your  hands  full.  How  does  that  appear 
to  you?" 

The  Harvester  opened  the  pamphlet  he  carried  and 
held  up  the  drawing  of  the  moth. 

The  doctor  turned  to  the  light. 

"Good  work!"  he  cried.     "Did  she  do  that?" 

"She  did.     In  a  little  over  an  hour." 

"Fine!     She   should   have   a   chance." 

"She  is  going  to.  She  is  going  to  have  all  the  oppor- 
tunity that  is  coming  to  her." 

"Good  for  you,  David!     Any  time  I  can  help!" 

The  Harvester  replaced  the  sketch  and  went  to  the 
wagon;  but  he  left  Belshazzar  in  charge,  and  visited  the 
largest  dry  goods  store  in  Onabasha,  where  he  held  a 
conference  with  the  floor  walker.  When  he  came  out  he 
carried  a  heaping  load  of  boxes  of  every  size  and  shape, 


THE  CHIME  OF  THE  BLUE  BELLS    197 

with  a  label  on  each.     He  drove  to  Medicine  Woods 
singing  and  whistling. 

"She  didn't  want  me  to  go,  Belshazzar!"  he  chuckled 
to  the  dog.  "She  was  more  afraid  of  a  cow  than  she 
was  of  me.  I  made  some  headway  to-day,  old  boy. 
She  doesn't  seem  to  have  a  ray  of  an  idea  what  I  am 
there  for,  but  she  is  going  to  trust  me  soon  now;  that  is 
written  in  the  books.  Oh  I  hope  she  will  be  there  to- 
morrow, and  the  luna  will  be  out.  Got  half  a  notion  to 
take  the  case  and  lay  it  in  the  warmest  place  I  can  find. 
But  if  it  comes  out  and  she  isn't  there,  I'll  be  sorry. 
Better  trust  to  luck." 

The  Harvester  stabled  Betsy,  fed  the  stock,  and  vis- 
ited with  the  birds.  After  supper  he  took  his  purchases 
and  entered  her  room.  He  opened  the  drawers  of  the 
chest  he  had  made,  and  selecting  the  labelled  boxes  he 
laid  them  in.  But  not  a  package  did  he  open.  Then 
he  arose  and  radiated  conceit  of  himself. 

"I'll  wager  she  will  like  those,"  he  commented  proudly, 
"because  Kane  promised  me  fairly  that  he  would  have  the 
right  things  put  up  for  a  girl  the  size  of  the  clerk  I  selected 
for  him,  and  exactly  what  Ruth  should  have.  That  girl 
was  slenderer  and  not  quite  so  tall,  but  he  said  everything 
was  made  long  on  purpose.     Now  what  else  should  I  get  ? " 

He  turned  to  the  dressing  table  and  taking  a  notebook 
from  his  pocket  made  this  list: 

Rugs  for  bed  and  bath  room. 
Mattresses,  pillows  and  bedding, 
Dresses  for  all  occasions. 
All  kinds  of  shoes  and  overshoes. 


198  THE  HARVESTER 

"There  are  gloves,  too!"  exclaimed  the  Harvester. 
"  She  has  to  have  some,  but  how  am  I  going  to  know  what 
is  right?  Oh,  but  she  needs  shoes!  High,  low,  slippers, 
everything!  I  wonder  what  that  clerk  wears.  I  don't 
believe  shoes  would  be  comfortable  without  being  fitted, 
or  at  least  the  proper  size.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  dresses 
she  likes.  I  hope  she's  fond  of  white.  A  woman  always 
appears  loveliest  in  that.  Maybe  I'd  better  buy  what 
I'm  sure  of  and  let  her  select  the  dresses.  But  I'd  love 
to  have  this  room  crammed  with  girl-fixings  when  she 
comes.  Doesn't  seem  as  if  she  ever  has  had  any  little 
luxuries.  I  can't  miss  it  on  anything  a  woman  uses. 
Let  me  think!" 

Slowly  he  wrote  again: 

Parasols. 
Fans. 
Veils. 
Hats. 

"  I  never  can  get  them !  I  think  that  will  keep  me  busy 
for  a  few  days,"  said  the  Harvester  as  he  closed  the  door 
softly,  and  went  to  look  at  the  pupae  cases.  Then  he 
carved  on  the  vine  of  the  candlestick  for  her  dressing 
table;  with  one  arm  around  Belshazzar,  re-read  the  story 
of  John  Muir's  dog,  went  into  the  lake,  and  to  bed. 
Just  as  he  was  becoming  unconscious  the  beast  lifted  an 
inquiring  head  and  gazed  at  the  man. 

"More  'fraid  of  cow,"  the  Harvester  was  muttering 
in  a  sleepy  chuckle. 


CHAPTER  XI 
Demonstrated  Courtship 

WHEN  the  Harvester  saw  the  Girl  coming  toward 
the    woods,    he    spread    the    rug,    opened    and 
placed  the  table  and  chair,  laid  out  the  colour 
box,  and  another  containing  the  last  luna. 

"Did  the  green  one  come  out?"  she  asked,  touching 
the  box  lightly. 

"It  did!"  said  the  Harvester  proudly,  as  if  he  were 
responsible  for  the  performance.  "It  is  an  omen!  It 
means  that  I  am  to  have  my  long-coveted  pattern  for 
my  best  candlestick.  It  also  clearly  indicates  that 
the  gods  of  luck  are  with  me  for  the  day,  and  I 
get  my  way  about  everything.  There  won't  be  the 
least  use  in  your  asking  'why'  or  interposing  objec- 
tions. This  is  my  clean  sweep.  I  shall  be  fear- 
fully dictatorial  and  you  must  submit,  because  the  fates 
have  pointed  out  that  they  favour  me  to-day,  and 
if  you  go  contrary  to  their  decrees  you  will  have  a 
bad  time." 

The  Girl's  smile  was  a  little  wan.  She  sank  on  a  chair 
and  picked  up  a  pencil. 

"Lay  that  down!"  cried  the  Harvester.     "You  haven't 

199 


200  THE  HARVESTER 

had  permission  from  the  Dictator  to  begin  drawing.  You 
are  to  sit  and  rest  a  long  time." 

"Please  may  I  speak?"  asked  the  Girl. 

The  Harvester  grew  foolishly  happy.  Was  she  really 
going  to  play  the  game?  Of  course  he  had  hoped,  but 
it  was  a  hope  without  any  foundation. 

"You  may,"  he  said  soberly. 

"I  am  afraid  that  if  you  don't  allow  me  to  draw  the 
moth  at  once,  I'll  never  get  it  done.  I  dislike  to  mention 
it  on  your  good  day,  but  Aunt  Molly  is  very  restless.  I 
got  a  neighbour's  little  girl  to  watch  her  and  call  me  if 
I'm  wanted.  It's  quite  certain  that  I  must  go  soon,  so  if 
you  would  like  the  moth " 

"When  luck  is  coming  your  way,  never  hurry  it!  You 
always  upset  the  bowl  if  you  grow  greedy  and  crowd. 
If  it  is  a  gamble  whether  I  get  this  moth,  I'll  take  the 
chance;  but  I  won't  change  my  foreordained  programme 
for  this  afternoon.  First,  you  are  to  sit  still  ten  minutes, 
shut  your  eyes,  and  rest.  I  can't  sing,  but  I  can  whistle, 
and  I'm  going  to  entertain  you  so  you  won't  feel  alone. 
Ready  now!" 

The  Girl  leaned  her  elbows  on  the  table,  closed  her 
eyes,  and  pressed  her  slender  white  hands  over  them. 

"Please  don't  call  the  birds,"  she  said.  "I  can't  rest 
if  you  do.  It  was  so  exciting  trying  to  see  all  of  them 
and  guess  what  they  were  saying." 

"No,"  said  the  Harvester  gently.  "This  ten  minutes 
is  for  relaxation,  you  know.  You  ease  every  muscle, 
sink  limply  on  your  chair,  lean  on  the  table,  let  go  all 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        201 

over,  and  don't  think.  Just  listen  to  me.  I  assure  you 
it's  going  to  be  perfectly  lovely." 

Watching  intently  he  saw  the  strained  muscles  re- 
laxing at  his  suggestion  and  caught  the  smile  over  the 
last  words  as  he  slid  into  a  soft  whistle.  It  was  an 
easy,  slow,  old-fashioned  tune,  carrying  along  gently, 
with  neither  heights  nor  depths,  just  monotonous,  sleepy, 
soothing  notes,  that  went  on  and  on  with  a  little  ripple 
of  change  at  times,  only  to  return  to  the  theme,  until  at 
last  the  Girl  lifted  her  head. 

"It's  away  past  ten  minutes,"  she  said,  "but  that  was 
a  real  rest.     Truly,  I  am  better  prepared  for  work." 

"Broke  the  rule,  too!"  said  the  Harvester.  "It  was 
for  me  to  say  when  time  was  up.  Can't  you  allow  me 
to  have  my  way  for  ten  minutes?" 

"I  am  so  anxious  to  see  and  draw  this  moth,"  she 
answered.  "And  first  of  all  you  promised  to  bring  the 
drawings  you  have  been  using." 

"Now  where  does  my  programme  come  in?"  inquired 
the  Harvester.  "You  are  spoiling  everything,  and  I 
refuse  to  have  my  lucky  day  interfered  with;  therefore 
we  will  ignore  the  suggestion  until  we  arrive  at  the  place 
where  it  is  proper.     Next  thing  is  refreshments." 

He  arose  and  coming  over  cleared  the  table.  Then 
he  spread  on  it  a  paper  tray  cloth  with  a  gay  border, 
and  going  into  the  thicket  brought  out  a  box  and  a  big 
bucket  containing  a  jug  packed  in  ice.  The  Girl's  eyes 
widened.  She  reached  down,  caught  up  a  piece,  and 
holding  it  to  drip  a  second  started  to  put  it  in  her  mouth. 


202  THE  HARVESTER 

"Drop  that!"  commanded  the  Harvester.  "That's 
a  very  unhealthful  proceeding.     Wait  a  minute." 

From  one  end  of  the  box  he  produced  a  tin  of  wafers 
and  from  the  other  a  plate.  Then  he  dug  into  the  ice 
and  lifted  several  different  varieties  of  chilled  fruit.  From 
the  jug  he  poured  a  combination  that  he  made  of  the 
juices  of  oranges,  pineapples,  and  lemons.  He  set  the 
glass,  rapidly  frosting  in  the  heat,  and  the  fruit  before 
the  Girl. 

"Now!"  he  said. 

For  one  instant  she  stared  at  the  table.  Then  she 
looked  at  him  and  in  the  depths  of  her  dark  eyes  was  an 
appeal  he  never  forgot. 

"I  made  that  drink  myself,  so  it's  all  right,"  he  as- 
sured her.  "There's  a  pretty  stiff  touch  of  pineapple 
in  it,  and  it  cuts  the  cobwebs  on  a  hot  day.  Please 
try  it!" 

"I  can't!"  cried  the  Girl  with  a  half-sob.  "Think  of 
Aunt  Molly!" 

"Are  you  fond  of  her?" 

"No.  I  never  saw  her  until  a  few  weeks  ago.  Since 
then  I've  seen  nothing  save  her  poor,  tired  back.  She  lies 
in  a  heap  facing  the  wall.  But  if  she  could  have  things 
like  these,  she  needn't  suffer.  And  if  my  mother  could 
have  had  them  she  would  be  living  to-day.  Oh  Man, 
I  can't  touch  this." 

"I  see,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  reached  over,  picked  up  the  glass,  and  poured  its 
contents  into  the  jug.     He  repacked  the  fruit  and  closed 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        203 

the  wafer  box.     Then  he  made  a  trip  to  the  thicket  and 
came  out  putting  something  into  his  pocket. 

"Come  on!"  he  said.     "We  are  going  to  the  house." 

She  stared  at  him. 

"I  simply  don't  dare." 

"Then  I  will  go  alone,"  said  the  Harvester,  picking 
up  the  bucket  and  starting. 

The  Girl  followed  him. 

"Uncle  Henry  may  come  any  minute,"  she  urged. 

"Well  if  he  comes  and  acts  unpleasantly,  he  will  get 
what  he  richly  deserves." 

"And  he  will  make  me  pay  for  it  afterward." 

"Oh  no  he  won't!"  said  the  Harvester,  "because  I'll 
look  out  for  that.  This  is  my  lucky  day.  He  isn't  going 
to  come." 

When  he  reached  the  back  door  he  opened  it  and 
stepped  inside.  Of  all  the  barren  places  of  crude,  dis- 
heartening ugliness  the  Harvester  ever  had  seen,  that  was 
the  worst. 

"I  want  a  glass  and  a  spoon,"  he  said. 

The  Girl  brought  them. 

"Where  is  she?" 

"In  the  next  room." 

At  the  sound  of  their  voices  a  small  girl  came  to  the 
kitchen  door. 

"How  do  you  do?"  inquired  the  Harvester.  "Is  Mrs. 
Jameson  asleep?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  the  child.  "She  just  lies 
there." 


204  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  gave  her  the  glass.  "Please  fill  that 
with  water,"  he  said.  Then  he  picked  up  the  bucket  and 
went  into  the  front  room.  When  the  child  came  with 
the  water  he  took  a  bottle  from  his  pocket,  filled  the  spoon, 
and  handed  it  to  her. 

"Hold  that  steadily,"  he  said. 

Then  he  slid  his  strong  hands  under  the  light  frame  and 
turned  the  face  of  the  faded  little  creature  toward  him. 

"I  am  a  Medicine  Man,  Mrs.  Jameson,"  he  said  casu- 
ally. "I  heard  you  were  sick  and  I  came  to  see  if  a 
little  of  this  stuff  wouldn't  brace  you  up.  Open  your 
lips." 

He  held  out  the  spoon  and  the  amazed  woman  swal- 
lowed the  contents  before  she  realized  what  she  was 
doing.  Then  the  Harvester  ran  a  hand  under  her  should- 
ers and  lifting  her  gently  he  tossed  her  pillow  with 
the  other  hand. 

"You  are  a  light  little  body,  just  like  my  mother," 
he  commented.  "Now  I  have  something  else  sick  people 
sometimes  enjoy." 

He  held  the  fruit  juice  to  her  lips  as  he  slightly  raised 
her  on  the  pillow.  Her  trembling  fingers  lifted  and 
closed  around  the  sparkling  glass. 

"Oh  it's  cool!"  she  gasped. 

"It  is,"  said  the  Harvester,  "and  sour!  I  think  you 
can  taste  it.     Try!" 

She  drank  so  greedily  he  drew  away  the  glass  and 
urged  caution,  but  the  shaking  fingers  clung  to  him  and 
the  wavering  voice  begged  for  more. 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        205 

"In  a  minute,"  said  the  Harvester  gently.  But  the 
fevered  woman  would  not  wait.  She  drank  the  cooling 
liquid  until  she  could  take  no  more.  Then  she  watched 
him  fill  a  small  pitcher  and  pack  it  in  a  part  of  the  ice 
and  lay  some  fruit  around  it. 

" Who,  Ruth?"  she  panted. 

"A  Medicine  Man  who  heard  about  you." 

"What  will  Henry  say?" 

"He  won't  know,"  explained  the  Girl,  smoothing  the 
hot  forehead.  "I'll  put  it  in  the  cupboard,  and  slip  it 
to  you  while  he  is  out  of  the  room.  It  will  make  you 
strong  and  well." 

"I  don't  want  to  be  strong  and  well  and  suffer  it  all 
over  again.  I  want  to  rest.  Give  me  more  of  the  cool 
drink.     Give  me  all  I  want,  then  I'll  go  to  sleep." 

"It's  wonderful,"  said  the  Girl.  "That's  more  than 
I've  heard  her  talk  since  I  came.  She  is  much  stronger. 
Please  let  her  have  it." 

The  Harvester  assented.  He  gave  the  child  some  of 
the  fruit,  and  told  her  to  sit  beside  the  bed  and  hold  the 
drink  when  it  was  asked  for.  She  agreed  to  be  very 
careful  and  watchful.  Then  he  picked  up  the  bucket, 
and  followed  by  the  Girl,  returned  to  the  woods. 

"Now  we  have  to  begin  all  over  again,"  he  said,  as 
she  seated  herself  at  the  table.  "Because  of  the  walk  in 
the  heat,  this  time  the  programme  is  a  little  different." 

He  replaced  the  wafer  box  and  opened  it,  filled  the 
glass,  and  heaped  the  cold  fruit. 

"Your  aunt  is  going  to  have  a  refreshing  sleep  now," 


2o6  THE  HARVESTER 

he  said,  "and  your  mind  can  be  free  about  her  for  an  hour 
or  two.  I  am  very  sure  your  mother  would  not  want  you 
deprived  of  anything  because  she  missed  it,  so  you  are 
to  enjoy  this,  if  you  care  for  it.     At  least  try  a  sample." 

The  Girl  lifted  the  glass  to  her  lips  with  a  trembling 
hand. 

"I'm  like  Aunt  Molly,"  she  said;  "I  wish  I  could  drink 
all  I  could  swallow,  and  then  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep 
forever.     I  suppose  this  is  what  they  have  in  Heaven." 

"No,  it's  what  they  drink  all  over  earth  at  present, 
but  I  have  a  conceit  of  my  own  brand.  Some  of  it  is 
too  strong  of  one  fruit  or  of  the  other,  and  all  too  sweet 
for  health.  This  is  compounded  scientifically  and  it's 
just  right.  If  you  are  not  accustomed  to  cold  drinks, 
go  slowly." 

"You  can't  scare  me,"  said  the  Girl;  "I'm  going  to 
drink  all  I  want." 

There  was  a  note  of  excitement  in  the  Harvester's 
laugh. 

"You  must  have  some,  too!" 

"After  a  while,"  he  said.  "I  was  thirsty  when  I  made 
it,  so  I  don't  care  for  any  more  now.  Try  the  fruit  and 
those  wafers.  Of  course  they  are  not  home  made  — 
they  are  the  best  I  could  do  at  a  bakery.  Take  time 
enough  to  eat  slowly.  I'm  going  to  tell  you  a  tale  while 
you  lunch,  and  it's  about  a  Medicine  Man  named  David 
Langston.  It's  a  very  peculiar  story,  but  it's  quite 
true.  This  man  lives  in  the  woods  east  of  Onabasha, 
accompanied  by  his  dog,  horse,  cow,  and  chickens,  and 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        207 

a  forest  full  of  birds,  flowers,  and  matchless  trees.  He 
has  lived  there  in  this  manner  for  six  long  years,  and 
every  spring  he  and  his  dog  have  a  seance  and  agree 
whether  he  shall  go  on  gathering  medicinal  herbs  and 
trying  his  hand  at  making  medicine  or  go  to  the  city 
and  live  as  other  men.  Always  the  dog  chooses  to  remain 
in  the  woods. 

"Then  every  spring,  on  the  day  the  first  bluebird  comes, 
the  dog  also  decides  whether  the  man  shall  go  on  alone 
or  find  a  mate  and  bring  her  home  for  company.  Each 
year  the  dog  regularly  has  decided  that  they  live  as 
always.  This  spring,  for  some  unforeseen  reason,  he 
changed  his  mind,  and  compelled  the  man,  according  to 
his  vow  in  the  beginning,  to  go  courting.  The  man  was 
so  very  angry  at  the  idea  of  having  a  woman  in  his  home, 
interfering  with  his  work,  disturbing  his  arrangements, 
and  perhaps  wanting  to  spend  more  money  than  he  could 
afford,  that  he  struck  the  dog  for  making  that  decision; 

struck  him  for  the  very  first  time  in  his  life I  believe 

you'd  like  those  apricots.     Please  try  one." 

"Go  on  with  the  story,"  said  the  Girl,  sipping  deli- 
cately but  constantly  at  the  frosty  glass. 

The  Harvester  arose  and  refilled  it.  Then  he  dropped 
pieces  of  ice  over  the  fruit. 

"Where  was  I?"  he  inquired  casually. 

"Where  you  struck  Belshazzar,  and  it's  no  wonder," 
answered  the  Girl. 

Without  taking  time  to  ponder  that,  the  Harvester 
continued: 


208  THE  HARVESTER 

"But  that  night  the  man  had  a  wonderful,  golden 
dream.  A  beautiful  girl  came  to  him,  and  she  was  so 
gracious  and  lovely  that  he  was  sufficiently  punished 
for  striking  his  dog,  because  he  fell  unalterably  in  love 
with  her." 

"Meaning  you?"  interrupted  the  Girl. 

"Yes,"   said   the  Harvester,   "meaning  me.     I if 

you  like fell  in  love  with   the  girl.      She  came  so 

alluringly,  and  I  was  so  close  to  her  that  I  saw  her  better 
than  I  ever  did  any  other  girl,  and  I  knew  her  for  all  time. 
When  she  went,  my  heart  was  gone." 

"And  you  have  lived  without  that  important  organ 
ever  since?" 

"Without  even  the  ghost  of  it!  She  took  it  with  her. 
Well,  that  dream  was  so  real,  that  the  next  day  I  began 
building  over  my  house,  making  furniture,  and  planting 
flowers  for  her;  and  every  day,  wherever  I  went,  I  watched 
for  her." 

"What  nonsense!" 

"I  can't  see  it." 

"You  won't  find  a  girl  you  dreamed  about  in  a  thou- 
sand years." 

"Wrong!"  cried  the  Harvester  triumphantly.  "Saw 
her  in  little  less  than  three  months,  but  she  vanished  and 
it  took  some  time  and  difficult  work  before  I  located 
her  again;  but  I've  got  her  all  solid  now,  and  she  doesn't 
escape." 

"Is  she  a  'lovely  and  gracious  lady'?" 

"She  is!"  said  the  Harvester,  with  all  his  heart. 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        209 

"Young  and  beautiful,  of  course !" 

"Indeed  yes!" 

"Please  fill  this  glass.  I  told  you  what  I  was  going 
to  do." 

The  Harvester  refilled  the  glass  and  the  Girl  drained  it. 

"Now  won't  you  set  aside  these  things  and  allow  me 
to  go  to  work?"  she  asked.  "My  call  may  come  any 
minute,  and  I'll  never  forgive  myself  if  I  waste  time,  and 
don't  draw  your  moth  pattern  for  you." 

"It's  against  my  principles  to  hurry,  and  besides,  my 
story  isn't  finished." 

"  It  is,"  said  the  Girl.  "  She  is  young  and  lovely,  gentle 
and  a  lady,  you  have  her  c  all  solid.'  and  she  can't  *  escape'; 
that's  the  end,  of  course.  But  if  I  were  yoi',  I  wouldn't 
have  her  until  I  gave  her  a  chance  to  get  away,  and  saw 
whether  she  would  if  she  could." 

"Oh  I  am  not  a  jailer,"  said  the  Harvester.  "She  shall 
be  free  if  I  cannot  make  her  love  me;  but  I  can,  and  I 
will;  I  swear  it." 

"You  are  not  truly  in  earnest?" 

"  I  am  in  deadly  earnest." 

"Honestly,  you  dreamed  about  a  girl,  and  found  the 
very  one?" 

"Most  certainly,  I  did." 

"It  sounds  like  the  wildest  romancing." 

"It  is  the  veriest  reality." 

"Well  I  hope  you  win  her,  and  that  she  will  be  every- 
thing you  desire." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  Harvester.     "It's  written  in 


210  THE  HARVESTER 

the  book  of  fate  that  I  succeed.  The  very  elements  are 
with  me.  The  South  Wind  carried  a  message  to  her  for 
me.  I  am  going  to  marry  her,  but  you  could  make  it 
much  easier  for  me  if  you  would." 

"I!     What  could  I  do?"  cried  the  Girl. 

"You  could  cease  being  afraid  of  me.  You  could 
learn  to  trust  me.  You  could  try  to  like  me,  if  you  see 
anything  likeable  about  me.  That  would  encourage  me 
so  that  I  could  tell  you  of  my  Dream  Girl,  and  then  you 
could  show  me  how  to  win  her.  A  woman  always  knows 
about  those  things  better  than  a  man.  You  could  be  the 
greatest  help  in  all  the  world  to  me,  if  only  you  would." 

"I  couldn't  possibly  I  I  can't  leave  here.  I  have  no 
proper  clothing  to  appear  before  another  girl.  She  would 
be  shocked  at  my  white  face.  That  I  could  help  you  is 
the  most  improbable  dream  you  have  had." 

"You  must  pardon  me  if  I  differ  from  you,  and  persist 
in  thinking  that  you  can  be  of  invaluable  assistance  to 
me,  if  you  will.  But  you  can't  influence  my  Dream 
Girl,  if  you  fear  and  distrust  me  yourself.  Promise  me 
that  you  will  help  me  that  much,  anyway." 

"I'll  do  all  I  can.  I  only  want  to  make  you  see  that 
I  am  in  no  position  to  grant  any  favours,  no  matter  how 
much  I  owe  you  or  how  I'd  like  to.  Is  the  candlestick 
you  are  carving  for  her?" 

"It  is,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  am  making  a  pair  of 
maple  to  stand  on  a  dressing  table  I  built  for  her.  It  is 
unusually  beautiful  wood,  I  think,  and  I  hope  she  will 
be  pleased  with  it." 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        211 

"  Please  take  these  things  away  and  let  me  begin.  This 
is  the  only  thing  I  can  see  that  I  can  do  for  you,  and  the 
moth  will  want  to  fly  before  I  have  finished." 

The  Harvester  cleared  the  table  and  placed  the  box, 
while  the  Girl  spread  the  paper  and  began  work  eagerly 

"I  wonder  if  I  knew  there  were  such  exquisite  things 
in  all  the  world,"  she  said.  "  I  scarcely  think  I  did.  I  am 
beginning  to  understand  why  you  couldn't  kill  one.  You 
could  make  a  chair  or  a  table,  and  so  you  feel  free  to  destroy 
them;  but  it  takes  ages  and  Almighty  wisdom  to  evolve 
a  creature  like  this,  so  you  don't  dare.  I  think  no  one  else 
would  if  they  really  knew.     Please  talk  while  I  work." 

"Is  there  a  particular  subject  you  want  discussed?" 

"Anything  but  her.  If  I  think  too  strongly  of  her,  I 
can't  work  so  well." 

"Your  ginseng  is  almost  dry,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"I  think  I  can  bring  you  the  money  in  a  few  days." 

"So  soon!"  she  cried. 

"It  dries  day  and  night  in  an  even  temperature,  and 
faster  than  you  would  believe.  There's  going  to  be 
between  seven  and  eight  pounds  of  it,  when  I  make  up 
what  it  has  shrunk.  It  will  go  under  the  head  of  the 
finest  wild  roots.     I  can  get  eight  for  it  sure." 

"Oh  what  good  news!"  cried  the  Girl.  "This  is  my 
lucky  day,  too.  And  the  little  girl  isn't  coming,  so  Aunt 
Molly  must  be  asleep.  Everything  goes  right!  If  only 
Uncle  Henry  wouldn't  come  home!" 

"Let  me  fill  your  glass,"  proffered  the  Harvester. 

"Just  half  way,  and  set  it  where  I  can  see  it,"  said  the 


212  THE  HARVESTER 

Girl.  She  worked  with  swift  strokes  and  there  was  a 
hint  of  colour  in  her  face,  as  she  looked  at  him.  "I 
hope  you  won't  think  I'm  greedy,"  she  said,  "but  truly, 

that's  the  first  thing  I've  had  that  I  could  taste  in I 

can't  remember  when." 

"I'll  bring  a  barrel  to-morrow,"  offered  the  Harvester, 
"and  a  big  piece  of  ice  wrapped  in  coffee  sacking." 

"You  mustn't  think  of  such  a  thing!  Ice  is  expensive 
and  so  are  fruits." 

"Ice  costs  me  the  time  required  to  saw  and  pack  it  at 
my  home.  I  almost  live  on  the  fruit  I  raise.  I  con- 
fess to  a  fondness  for  this  drink.  I  have  no  other  personal 
expenses,  unless  you  count  in  books,  and  a  very  few 
clothes,  such  as  I'm  wearing;  so  I  surely  can  afford  all 
the  fruit  juice  I  want." 

"For  yourself,  yes." 

"Also  for  a  couple  of  women  or  I  am  a  mighty  poor 
attempt  at  a  man,"  said  the  Harvester.  "This  is  my 
day,  so  you  are  not  to  talk,  because  it  won't  do  any  good. 
Things  go  my  way." 

"Please  see  what  you  think  of  this,"  she  said. 

The  Harvester  arose  and  bent  over  her. 

"That  will  do  finely,"  he  answered.  "You  can  stop. 
I  don't  require  all  those  little  details  for  carving,  I  just 
want  a  good  outline.     It  is  finished.     See  here!" 

He  drew  some  folded  papers  from  his  pocket  and  laid 
them  before  her. 

"Those  are  what  I  have  been  working  from,"  he  said. 

The  Girl  took  them  and  studied  each  carefully. 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        213 

"If  those  are  worth  five  dollars  to  you,"  she  said  gently, 
"why  then  I  needn't  hesitate  to  take  as  much  for  mine. 
They  are  superior." 

"I  should  say  so,"  laughed  the  Harvester  as  he  took 
up  the  drawing  and  laid  down  the  money. 

"If  you  would  make  it  half  that  much  I'd  feel  better 
about  it,"  she  said. 

"How  could  I?"  asked  the  Harvester.  "Your  fingers 
are  well  trained  and  extremely  ■  skilful.  Because  some 
one  has  not  been  paying  you  enough  for  your  work  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  keep  it  up.  From  now  on  you 
must  have  what  others  get.  As  soon  as  you  can  arrange 
for  work,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  some  designs  I  have 
studied  out  from  different  things,  show  you  the  plants 
and  insects,  and  have  you  make  some  samples.  I'll 
send  them  to  proper  places,  and  see  what  experts  say 
about  the  ideas  and  drawing.  Work  in  the  woods  is 
healthful,  with  proper  precautions;  it's  easy  compared 
with  the  exactions  of  being  bound  to  sewing  or  embroider- 
ing in  the  confinement  of  a  room;  it's  vividly  interesting 
in  the  search  for  new  subjects,  changes  of  material,  and 
differing  harmonious  combinations;  it's  truly  artistic;  and 
it  brings  the  prices  high  grade  stuff  always  does." 

"Almost  you  give  me  hope,"  said  the  Girl.     "Almost, 

Man almost!     Since  mother  died,  I  haven't  thought 

or  planned  beyond  paying  for  the  medicine  she  took  and 
the  shelter  she  lies  in.    Oh  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that !" 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  The  Harvester 
suffered  until  he  scarcely  knew  how  to  bear  it. 


2i4  THE  HARVESTER 

"Please  finish,"  he  begged.  "You  hadn't  planned  be- 
yond the  debt,  you  were  saying " 

The  Girl  lifted  her  tired,  strained  face. 

"Give  me  a  little  more  of  that  delicious  drink,"  she 
said.  "I  am  ravenous  for  it.  It  puts  new  life  in  me. 
This  and  what  you  say  bring  a  far  away,  misty  vision 
of  a  clean,  bright,  peaceful  room  somewhere,  and  work 
one  could  love  and  live  on  in  comfort;  enough  to  give  a 
desire  to  finish  life  to  its  natural  end.  Oh  Man,  you 
make  me  hope  in  spite  of  myself!" 

"'Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow;'"  quoted 
the  Harvester  reverently.  "  Now  try  one  of  these  peaches. 
It's  juicy  and  cold.  Get  that  room  right  in  focus  in  your 
brain,  and  nurture  the  idea.  Its  walls  shall  be  bright 
as  sunshine,  its  floor  creamy  white,  and  it  shall  open 
into  a  little  garden,  where  only  yellow  flowers  grow,  and 
the  birds  shall  sing.  The  first  ray  of  sun  that  peeps 
over  the  hills  of  morning  shall  fall  through  its  windows 
across  your  bed,  and  you  shall  work  only  as  you  please, 
after  you've  had  months  of  play  and  rest;  and  it's  com- 
ing true  the  instant  you  can  leave  here.  Dream  of 
it,  make  up  your  mind  to  it,  because  it's  coming.  I 
have  a  little  streak  of  second  sight,  and  I  see  it  on  the 
way." 

"You  are  talking  wildly,"  said  the  Girl,  "else  you  are 
a  good  genie  trying  to  conjure  a  room  for  me." 

"This  room  I  am  talking  of  is  ready  whenever  you  want 
to  take  possession,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Accept  it  as 
a  reality,  because  I  tell  you  I  know  where  it  is,  that  it 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        215 

is  waiting,  and  you  can  earn  your  way  into  it  with  no 
obligation  to  any  one." 

The  Girl  stretched  out  her  right  hand  and  slowly  turned 
and  opened  and  closed  it.  Then  she  glanced  at  the  Har- 
vester with  a  weary  smile. 

"From  somewhere  I  feel  a  glimmering  of  the  spirit, 
but  Oh,  dear  Lord,  the  flesh  is  weak!"  she  said. 

"That's  where  nourishing  foods,  appetizing  drinks, 
plenty  of  pure,  fresh  air,  and  good  water  come  in.  Now 
we  have  talked  enough  for  one  day,  and  worked  too 
much.  The  fruit  and  drink  go  with  you.  I  will  carry 
it  to  the  house,  and  you  can  hide  it  in  your  room.  I  am 
going  to  put  a  bottle  of  tonic  on  top  that  the  best  sur- 
geon in  the  state  gave  me  for  you.  Try  to  eat  something 
strengthening  and  then  take  a  spoonful  of  this,  and  use 
all  the  fruit  you  want.  I'll  bring  more  to-morrow  and 
put  it  here,  with  plenty  of  ice.  Now  suppose  you  let 
the  moth  go  free,"  he  suggested  to  avoid  objections. 
"You  must  take  my  word  for  it,  that  it  is  perfectly  harm- 
less, lacking  either  sting  or  bite,  and  hold  your  hand  be- 
fore it,  so  that  it  will  climb  on  your  ringers.  Then  stand 
where  a  ray  of  sunshine  falls  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  will 
go  out  to  live  its  life." 

The  Girl  hesitated  a  second  as  she  studied  the  clean-cut, 
interested  face  of  the  man;  then  she  held  out  her  hand, 
and  he  urged  the  moth  to  climb  on  her  fingers.  She 
stepped  where  a  ray  of  strong  light  fell  on  the  forest  floor 
and  held  the  moth  in  it.  The  brightness  also  touched 
her  transparent  hand  and  white  face  and  the  gleaming 


216  THE  HARVESTER 

black  hair.  The  Harvester  choked  down  a  rising  surge 
of  desire  for  her,  and  took  a  new  grip  on  himself. 

"Oh!"  she  cried  breathlessly,  as  the  clinging  feet  sud- 
denly loosened  and  the  luna  slowly  flew  away  among  the 
trees.  She  turned  on  the  Harvester.  "You  teach  me 
wonders!"  she  cried.  "You  give  life  different  meanings. 
You  are  not  as  other  men." 

"If  that  be  true,  it  is  because  I  am  of  the  woods.  The 
Almighty  does  not  evolve  all  his  wonders  in  animal, 
bird,  and  flower  form;  He  keeps  some  to  work  out  in 
the  heart,  if  humanity  only  will  go  to  His  school,  and  allow 
Him  to  have  dominion.  Come  now,  you  must  go.  I 
will  come  back  and  put  away  all  the  things  and  to- 
morrow I  will  bring  your  ginseng  money.  Any  time  you 
cannot  come,  if  you  want  to  tell  me  why,  or  if  there  is 
anything  I  can  do  for  you,  put  a  line  under  the  oilcloth. 
I  will  carry  the  bucket." 

"I  am  so  afraid,"  she  said. 

"I  will  only  go  to  the  edge  of  the  woods.  You  can 
see  if  there  is  any  one  at  the  house  first.  If  not,  you  can 
send  the  child  away,  and  then  I  will  carry  the  bucket  to 
the  door  for  you,  and  it  will  furnish  comfort  for  one  night, 
at  least." 

They  went  to  the  cleared  land  and  the  Girl  passed  on 
alone.  Soon  she  reappeared  and  the  Harvester  saw  the 
child  going  down  the  road.  He  took  up  the  bucket  and 
set  it  inside  the  door. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?" 

"Nothing  but  go,  before  you  make  trouble." 


DEMONSTRATED  COURTSHIP        217 

"Will  you  hide  that  stuff  and  walk  back  as  far  as  the 
woods  with  me?  There  is  something  more  I  want  to 
say  to  you." 

The  Girl  staggered  under  the  heavy  load,  and  the  man 
turned  his  head  and  tried  to  pretend  he  did  not  see. 
Presently  she  came  out  to  him,  and  they  returned  to 
the  line  of  the  woods.  Just  as  they  entered  the  shade 
there  was  a  flash  before  them,  and  on  a  twig  a  few  rods 
away  a  little  gray  bird  alighted,  while  in  precipitate 
pursuit  came  a  flaming  wonder  of  red,  and  in  a  burst 
of  excited  trills,  broken  whistles,  and  imploring  gestures, 
perched  beside  her. 

The  Harvester  hastily  drew  the  Girl  behind  some 
bushes. 

"Watch!"  he  whispered.  "You  are  going  to  see  a 
sight  so  lovely  and  so  rare  it  is  vouchsafed  to  few  mortals 
ever  to  behold." 

"What  are  they  fighting  about?"  she  whispered. 

"You  are  witnessing  a  cardinal  bird  declare  his  love," 
breathed  the  Harvester. 

"Do  cardinals  love  different  birds?" 

"No.  The  female  is  gray,  because  if  she  is  coloured 
the  same  as  the  trees  and  branches  and  her  nest,  she 
will  have  more  chance  to  bring  off  her  young  in  safety. 
He  is  blood  red,  because  he  is  the  bravest,  gayest,  most 
ardent  lover  of  the  whole  woods,"  explained  the  Har- 
vester. 

The  Girl  leaned  forward  breathlessly  watching  and  a 
slow  surge  of  colour  crept  into  her  cheeks.     The  red  bird 


218  THE  HARVESTER 

twisted,  whistled,  rocked,  tilted,  and  trilled,  and  the  gray 
sat  demurely  watching  him,  as  if  only  half  convinced 
he  really  meant  it.  The  gay  lover  began  at  the  beginning 
and  said  it  all  over  again  with  more  impassioned  ges- 
tures than  before,  and  then  he  edged  in  touch  and  softly 
stroked  her  wing  with  his  beak.  She  appeared  startled, 
but  did  not  fly.  So  again  the  fountain  of  half-whistled, 
half-trilled  notes  bubbled  with  the  acme  of  pleading 
intonation  and  that  time  he  leaned  and  softly  kissed  her 
as  she  reached  her  bill  for  the  caress.  Then  she  fled  in 
headlong  flight,  while  the  streak  of  flame  darted  after  her. 
The  Girl  caught  her  breath  in  a  swift  spasm  of  surprise 
and  wonder.     She  turned  to  the  Harvester. 

"What  was  it  you  wanted  to  say  to  me?"  she  asked 
hurriedly. 

The  Harvester  was  not  the  man  to  miss  the  goods  the 
gods  provided.  Truly  this  was  his  lucky  day.  Un- 
hesitatingly he  took  the  plunge. 

"Precisely  what  he  said  to  her.  And  if  you  observed 
closely,  you  noticed  that  she  didn't  ask  him  'why." 

Before  she  could  open  her  lips,  he  was  gone,  his  swift 
strides  carrying  him  through  the  woods. 


T 


CHAPTER  XII 

"The  Way  of  a  Man  with  a  Maid" 

HE   next  day  the  Harvester  lifted  the  oilcloth, 

and  picking  up  a  folded  note  he  read 

"Aunt  Molly  found  rest  in  the  night.  She  was 
more  comfortable  than  she  had  been  since  I  have  known 
her.  Close  the  end  she  whispered  to  me  to  thank  you 
if  I  ever  saw  you  again.  She  will  be  buried  to-morrow. 
Past  that,  I  dare  not  think." 

The  Harvester  sat  on  the  log  and  studied  the  lines. 
She  would  not  come  that  day  or  the  next.  After  a  long 
time  he  put  the  note  in  his  pocket,  wrote  an  answer 
telling  her  he  had  been  there,  and  would  come  on  the 
following  day  on  the  chance  of  her  wanting  anything 
he  could  do,  and  the  next  he  would  bring  the  ginseng 
money,  so  she  must  be  sure  to  meet  him. 

Then  he  went  back  to  the  wagon,  turned  Betsy,  and 
drove  around  the  Jameson  land  watching  closely.  There 
were  several  vehicles  in  the  barn  lot,  and  a  couple  of 
men  sitting  under  the  trees  of  the  door  yard.  Faded 
bedding  hung  on  the  line  and  women  moved  through 
the  rooms,  but  he  could  not  see  the  Girl.  Slowly  he 
drove  on  until  he  came  to  the  first  house,  and  there  he 
stopped  and  went  in.     He  saw  the  child  of  the  previous 

219 


22o  THE  HARVESTER 

day,  and  as  she  came  forward  her  mother  appeared  in 
the  doorway. 

The  Harvester  explained  who  he  was  and  that  he  was 
examining  the  woods  in  search  of  some  almost  extinct 
herbs  he  needed  in  his  business.  Then  he  told  of  .having 
been  at  the  adjoining  farm  the  day  before  and  mentioned 
the  sick  woman.  He  added  that  later  she  had  died. 
He  casually  mentioned  that  a  young  woman  there  seemed 
pale  and  ill  and  wondered  if  the  neighbours  would  see 
her  through.  He  suggested  that  the  place  appeared  as 
if  the  owner  did  not  take  much  interest,  and  when  the 
woman  finished  with  Henry  Jameson,  he  said  how  very 
important  it  seemed  to  him  that  some  good,  kind-hearted 
soul  should  go  and  mother  the  poor  girl,  and  the  woman 
thought  she  was  the  very  person.  Without  knowing 
exactly  how  he  did  it,  the  Harvester  left  with  her  prom- 
ise to  remain  with  the  Girl  the  coming  two  nights.  The 
woman  had  her  hands  full  of  strange  and  delicious  fruit 
without  understanding  why  it  had  been  given  her,  or 
why  she  had  made  those  promises.  She  thought  the 
Harvester  a  remarkably  fine  young  man  to  take  such 
interest  in  strangers  and  she  told  him  he  was  welcome 
to  anything  he  could  find  on  her  place  that  would  help 
with  his  medicines. 

The  Harvester  just  happened  to  be  coming  from  the 
woods  as  the  woman  freshly  dressed  left  the  house,  so 
he  took  her  in  the  wagon  and  drove  back  to  the  Jameson 
place,  because  he  was  going  that  way.  Then  he  returned 
to  Medicine  Woods  and  worked  with  all  his  might. 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    221 

First  he  polished  floors,  cleaned  windows,  and  arranged 
the  rooms  as  best  he  could  inside  the  cabin;  then  he 
gave  a  finishing  touch  to  everything  outside.  He  could 
not  have  told  why  he  did  it,  but  he  thought  it  was  be- 
cause there  was  hope  that  now  the  Girl  would  come 
to  Onabasha.  If  he  found  opportunity  to  bring  her 
to  the  city,  he  hoped  that  possibly  he  might  drive  home 
with  her  and  show  Medicine  Woods,  so  everything  must 
be  in  order.  Then  he  worked  with  flying  fingers  in  the 
dry-house,  putting  up  her  ginseng  for  market,  and  never 
was  weight  so  liberal. 

The  next  morning  he  drove  early  to  Onabasha  and 
came  home  with  a  loaded  wagon,  the  contents  of  which 
he  scattered  through  the  cabin  where  it  seemed  most 
suitable,  but  the  greater  part  of  it  was  for  her.  He 
glanced  at  the  bare  floors  and  walls  of  the  other  rooms, 
and  thought  of  trying  to  improve  them,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  not  getting  the  right  things. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  what  is  needed  here," 
he  said,  "but  I  am  perfectly  safe  in  buying  anything  a 
girl  ever  used." 

Then  he  returned  to  the  city,  explained  the  situation 
to  the  doctor,  and  selected  the  room  he  wanted  in  case 
the  Girl  could  be  persuaded  to  come  to  the  hospital. 
After  that  he  went  to  see  the  doctor's  wife,  and  made 
arrangements  for  her  to  be  ready  for  a  guest,  because 
there  was  a  possibility  he  might  want  to  call  for  help. 
He  had  another  jug  of  fruit  juice  and  all  the  delicacies 
he    could    think    of,    also    a    big    cake    of    ice,  when    he 


222  THE  HARVESTER 

reached  the  woods.  There  were  only  a  few  words  for 
him. 

"I  will  come  to-morrow  at  two,  if  at  all  possible;  if 
not,  keep  the  money  until  I  can." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  except  to  place  his  offering 
under  the  oilcloth  and  wait,  but  he  simply  was  compelled 
to  add  a  line  to  say  he  would  be  there,  and  to  express 
the  hope  that  she  was  comfortable  as  possible  and  think- 
ing of  the  sunshine  room.  Then  he  returned  to  Medi- 
cine Woods  to  wait,  and  found  that  possible  only  by 
working  to  exhaustion.  There  were  many  things  he 
could  do,  and  one  after  another  he  finished  them,  until 
completely  worn  out;  and  then  he  slept  the  deep  sleep 
of  weariness. 

At  noon  the  next  day  he  bathed,  shaved,  and  dressed 
in  fresh,  clean  clothing.  He  stopped  in  Onabasha  for 
more  fruit,  and  drove  to  the  Jameson  woods.  He  was 
waiting  and  watching  the  usual  path  the  Girl  followed, 
when  her  step  sounded  on  the  other  side.  The  Harvester 
arose  and  turned.  Her  pallor  was  alarming.  She  stepped 
on  the  rug  he  had  spread,  and  sank  almost  breathless 
to  the  chair. 

"Why  do  you  come  a  new  way  that  fills  you  with  fear?" 
asked  the  Harvester. 

"It  seems  as  if  Uncle  Henry  is  watching  me  every 
minute,  and  I  didn't  dare  come  where  he  could  see.  I 
must  not  remain  a  second.  You  must  take  these  things 
away  and  go  at  once.     He  is  dreadful." 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  Harvester,  "when  affairs  go  too 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    223 

everlastingly  wrong.  I  am  not  afraid  of  any  man  living. 
What  are  you  planning  to  do?" 

"I  want  to  ask  you,  are  you  sure  about  the  prices  of 
my  drawing  and  the  ginseng?" 

"Absolutely,"  said  the  Harvester.  "As  for  the  gin- 
seng it  went  in  fresh  and  early,  best  wild  roots,  and  it 
brought  eight  a  pound.  There  were  eight  pounds  when 
I  made  up  weight  and  here  is  your  money." 

He  handed  her  a  long  envelope  addressed  to  her. 

"What  is  the  amount?"  she  asked. 

"Sixty-four  dollars." 

"I  can't  believe  it." 

"You  have  it  in  your  fingers." 

"You  know  that  I  would  like  to  thank  you  properly, 
if  I  had  words  to  express  myself." 

"Never  mind  that,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Tell  me 
what  you  are  planning.  Say  that  you  will  come  to  the 
hospital  for  the  long,  perfect  rest  now." 

"  It  is  absolutely  impossible.  Don't  weary  me  by  men- 
tioning it.     I  cannot." 

"Will  you  tell* me  what  you  intend  doing?" 

"I  must,"  she  said,  "for  it  depends  entirely  on  your 
word.  I  am  going  to  get  Uncle  Henry's  supper,  and  then 
go  and  remain  the  night  with  the  neighbour  who  has 
been  helping  me.  In  the  morning,  when  he  leaves,  she 
is  coming  with  her  wagon  for  my  trunk,  and  she  is  going 
to  drive  with  me  to  Onabasha  and  find  me  a  cheap  room 
and  loan  me  a  few  things,  until  I  can  buy  what  I  need. 
I  am  going  to  use  fourteen  dollars  of  this  and  my  drawing 


224  THE  HARVESTER 

money  for  what  I  am  forced  to  buy,  and  pay  fifty  on 
my  debt.  Then  I  will  send  you  my  address  and  be 
ready  for  work." 

She  clutched  the  envelope  and  for  the  first  time  looked 
at  him. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  could  take  you 
to  the  wife  of  my  best  friend,  the  chief  surgeon  of 
the  city  hospital,  and  everything  would  be  ease 
and  rest  until  you  are  strong;  she  would  love  to  have 
you." 

The  Girl  dropped  her  hands  wearily. 

"Don't  tire  me  with  it!"  she  cried.  "I  am  almost 
falling  despite  the  stimulus  of  food  and  drink  I  can 
touch.  I  never  can  thank  you  properly  for  that.  I 
won't  be  able  to  work  hard  enough  to  show  you  how 
much  I  appreciate  what  you  have  done  for  me.  But 
you  don't  understand.  A  woman,  even  a  poverty-poor 
woman,  if  she  be  delicately  born  and  reared,  cannot  go 
to  another  woman  on  a  man's  whim,  and  when  she 
lacks  even  the  barest  necessities.  I  don't  refuse  to  meet 
your  friends.  I  shall  love  to,  when  I  can  be  so  dressed 
that  I  will  not  shame  you.  Until  that  times  comes,  if 
you  are  the  gentleman  you  appear  to  be,  you  will  wait 
without  urging  me  further." 

"I  must  be  a  man,  in  order  to  be  a  gentleman,"  said 
the  Harvester.  "And  it  is  because  the  man  in  me  is 
in  hot  rebellion  against  more  loneliness,  pain,  and  suffer- 
ing for  you,  that  the  conventions  become  chains  I  do 
not  care  how  soon  or  how  roughly  I  break.     If  only  you 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    225 

could  be  induced  to  say  the  word,  I  tell  you  I  could  bring 
one  of  God's  gentlest  women  to  you." 

"And  probably  she  would  come  in  a  dainty  gown, 
in  her  carriage  or  motor,  and  be  disgusted,  astonished, 
and  secretly  sorry  for  you.  As  for  me,  I  do  not  require 
her  pity.  I  will  be  glad  to  know  the  beautiful,  refined, 
and  gentle  woman  you  are  so  certain  of,  but  not  until 
I  am  better  dressed  and  more  attractive  in  appearance 
than  now.  If  you  will  give  me  your  address,  I  will  write 
you  when  I  am  ready  for  work." 

Silently  the  Harvester  wrote  it.  "Will  you  give  me 
permission  to  take  these  things  to  your  neighbour  for 
you?"  he  asked.  "They  would  serve  until  you  can  do 
better,  and  I  have  no  earthly  use  for  them." 

She  hesitated.     Then  she  laughed  shortly. 

"What  a  travesty  my  efforts  at  pride  are  with  you!" 
she  cried.  "I  begin  by  trying  to  preserve  some  proper 
dignity,  and  end  by  confessing  abject  poverty.  I  yet 
have  the  ten  you  paid  me  the  other  day,  but  twenty-four 
dollars  are  not  much  to  set  up  housekeeping  on,  and 
I  would  be  more  glad  than  I  can  say  for  these  very 
things." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  will  take  them 
when  I  go.     Is  there  anything  else?" 

"I  think  not." 

"Will  you  have  a  drink?" 

"Yes,  if  you  have  more  with  you.  I  believe  it  is  really 
cooling  my  blood." 

"Are  you  taking  the  medicine?" 


226  THE  HARVESTER 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  stronger.  Truly  I  am. 
I  know  I  appear  ghastly  to  you,  but  it's  loss  of  sleep, 
and  trying  to  lay  away  poor  Aunt  Molly  decently, 
and " 

"And  fear  of  Uncle  Henry,"  added  the  Harvester. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Girl.  "That  most  of  all!  He  thinks 
I  am  going  to  stay  here  and  take  her  place.  I  can't 
tell  him  I  am  not,  and  how  I  am  to  hide  from  him  when 
I  am  gone,  I  don't  know.     I  am  afraid  of  him." 

"Has  he  any  claim  on  you?" 

"Shelter  for  the  past  three  months." 

"Are  you  of  age?" 

"I  am  almost  twenty-four,"  she  said. 

"Then  suppose  you  leave  Uncle  Henry  to  me,"  sug- 
gested the  Harvester. 

"Why?" 

"Careful  now!  The  red  bird  told  you  why!"  said 
the  man.  "I  will  not  urge  it  upon  you  now,  but  keep 
it  steadily  in  the  back  of  your  head  that  there  is  a  sun- 
shine room  all  ready  and  waiting  for  you,  and  I  am  going 
to  take  you  to  it  very  soon.  As  things  are,  I  think  you 
might  allow  me  to  tell  you " 

She  was  on  her  feet  in  instant  panic.  "I  must  go," 
she  said.  "Uncle  Henry  is  dogging  me  to  promise  to 
remain,  and  I  will  not,  and  he  is  watching  me.     I  must 

go " 

"Can  you  give  me  your  word  of  honour  that  you  will 
go  to  the  neighbour  woman  to-night;  that  you  feel  per- 
fectly safe?" 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    227 

She  hesitated.     "Yes,   I I  think  so.     Yes,  if  he 

doesn't  find  out  and  grow  angry.     Yes,  I  will  be  safe." 

"How  soon  will  you  write  me?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  am  settled  and  rest  a  little." 

"Do  you  mean  several  days?" 

"  Yes,  several  days." 

"An  eternity!"  cried  the  Harvester  with  white  lips. 
"I  cannot  let  you  go.  Suppose  you  fall  ill  and  fail  to 
write  me,  and  I  do  not  know  where  you  are,  and  there 
is  no  one  to  care  for  you." 

"But  can't  you  see  that  I  don't  know  where  I  will 
be?  If  it  will  satisfy  you,  I  will  write  you  a  line  to- 
morrow night  and  tell  you  where  I  am,  and  you  can  come 
later." 

"Is  that  a  promise?"  asked  the  Harvester. 

"It  is,"  said  the  Girl. 

"Then  I  will  take  these  things  to  your  neighbour  and 
wait  until  to-morrow  night.     You  won't  fail  me?" 

"I  never  in  all  my  life  saw  a  man  so  wild  over  designs," 
said  the  Girl,  as  she  started  toward  the  house. 

"Don't  forget  that  the  design  I'm  craziest  about  is 
the  same  as  the  red  bird's,"  the  Harvester  flung  after 
her,  but  she  hurried  on  and  made  no  reply. 

He  folded  the  table  and  chair,  rolled  the  rug,  and 
shouldering  them  picked  up  the  bucket  and  started  down 
the  river  bank. 

"David!" 

Such  a  faint  little  call  he  never  would  have  been  sure 
he  heard  anything  if  Belshazzar  had  not  stopped  sud- 


228  THE  HARVESTER 

denly.  The  hair  on  the  back  of  his  neck  arose  and  he 
turned  with  a  growl  in  his  throat.  The  Harvester  dropped 
his  load  with  a  crash  and  ran  in  leaping  bounds,  but  the 
dog  was  before  him.  Half  way  to  the  house,  Ruth  Jame- 
son swayed  in  the  grip  of  her  uncle.  One  hand  clutched 
his  coat  front  in  a  spasmodic  grasp,  and  with  the  other 
she  covered  her  face. 

The  roar  the  Harvester  sent  up  stayed  the  big,  lifted 
fist,  and  the  dog  leaped  for  a  throat  hold,  and  compelled 
the  man  to  defend  himself.  The  Harvester  never  knew 
how  he  covered  the  space  until  he  stood  between  them, 
and  saw  the  Girl  draw  back  and  snatch  together  the 
front  of  her  dress. 

"He  took  it  from  me!"  she  panted.  "Make  him,  oh 
make  him  give  back  my  money!" 

Then  for  a  few  seconds  things  happened  too  rapidly  to 
record.  Once  the  Harvester  tossed  a  torn  envelope 
exposing  money  to  the  Girl,  and  again  a  revolver,  and 
then  both  men  panting  and  dishevelled  were  on  their 
feet. 

"Count  your  money,  Ruth?"  said  the  Harvester  in  a 
voice  of  deadly  quiet. 

"It  is  all  here,"  said  she. 

"Her  money?"  cried  Henry  Jameson.  "My  money! 
She  has  been  stealing  the  price  of  my  cattle  from  my 
pockets.     I  thought  I  was  short  several  times  lately." 

"You  are  lying,"  said  the  Harvester  deliberately. 
"  It  is  her  money.  I  just  paid  it  to  her.  You  were  trying 
to  take  it  from  her,  not  the  other  way." 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID    229 

"Oh,  she  is  in  your  pay?"  leered  the  man. 

"If  you  say  an  insulting  word  I  think  very  probably 
I  will  finish  you,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  can,  with  my 
naked  hands,  and  all  your  neighbours  will  say  it  is  a 
a  good  job.     You  have  felt  my  grip!     I  warn  you!" 

"How  does  my  niece  come  to  be  taking  money  from 
you!" 

"You  have  forfeited  all  right  to  know.  Ruth,  you 
cannot  remain  here.  You  must  come  with  me.  I  will 
take  you  to  Onabasha  and  find  you  a  room." 

A  horrible  laugh  broke  from  the  man. 

"So  that  is  the  end  of  my  saintly  niece!"  he  said. 

"Remember!"  cried  the  Harvester  advancing  a  step. 
"Ruth,  will  you  go  to  the  rest  I  suggested  for  you?" 

"I  cannot." 

"Will  you  go  to  Doctor  Carey's  wife?" 

"Impossible!" 

"  Will  you  marry  me  and  go  to  the  shelter  of  my  home 
with  me?" 

Wild-eyed  she  stared  at  him. 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  love  you,  and  want  life  made  easier  for 
you,  above  anything  else  on  earth." 

"But  your  Dream  Girl!" 

"  You  are  the  Dream  Girl!  I  thought  the  red  bird  told 
you  for  me!  I  didn't  know  it  would  be  a  shock.  I 
believed  I  had  made  you  understand." 

By  that  time  she  was  shaking  with  a  nervous  chill, 
and  the  sight  unmanned  the  Harvester. 


230  THE  HARVESTER 

"Come  with  me!"  he  urged.  "We  will  decide  what 
you  want  to  do  on  the  way.     Only  come,  I  beg  you." 

"First  it  was  marry,  now  it's  decide  later,"  broke  in 
Henry  Jameson,  crazed  with  anger.  "Move  a  step 
and  I'll  strike  you  down.  I'd  better  than  see  you  dis- 
graced   " 

The  Harvester  advanced  and  Jameson  stepped  back. 

"Ruth,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  know  how  impossible 
this  seems.  It  is  giving  you  no  chance  at  all.  I  had 
intended,  when  I  found  you,  to  court  you  tenderly  as 
girl  ever  was  wooed  before.  Come  with  me,  and  I'll 
do  it  yet.  The  new  home  was  built  for  you.  The 
sunshine  room  is  ready  and  waiting  for  you.  There  is 
pure  air,  fresh  water,  nothing  but  rest  and  comfort. 
I'll  nurse  you  back  to  health  and  strength,  and  you  shall 
be  courted  until  you  come  to  me  of  your  own  accord." 

"Impossible!"  cried  the  girl. 

"Only  if  you  make  it  so.  If  you  will  come  now,  we 
can  be  married  in  a  few  hours,  and  you  can  be  safe  in 
your  own  home.  I  realize  now  that  this  is  unexpected  and 
shocking  to  you  but  if  you  will  come  with  me  and  allow 
me  to  restore  you  to  health  and  strength,  and  if,  say,  in 
a  year,  you  are  convinced  that  you  do  not  love  me,  I 
will  set  you  free.  If  you  will  come,  I  swear  to  you  that  you 
shall  be  my  wife  first,  and  my  honoured  guest  afterward, 
until  such  time  as  you  either  tell  me  you  love  me  or  that 
you  never  can.     Will  you  come  on  those  terms,  Ruth?" 

"I  cannot!" 

"It  will   end  fear,   uncertainty,   and  work,   until  you 


'WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    231 

are  strong  and  well.  It  will  give  you  home,  rest,  and 
love,  that  you  will  find  is  worth  your  consideration.  I 
will  keep  my  word;  of  that  you  may  be  sure." 

"No,"  she  cried.  "No!  But  take  back  this  money! 
Keep  it  until  I  tell  you  to  whom  to  pay  it." 

She  started  toward  him  holding  out  the  envelope. 

Henry  Jameson,  with  a  dreadful  oath,  sprang  for  it, 
his  contorted  face  a  drawn  snarl.  The  Harvester  caught 
him  in  air  and  sent  him  reeling.  He  snatched  the  re- 
volver from  the  Girl  and  put  the  money  in  his  pocket. 

"Ruth,  I  can't  leave  you  here,"  he  said.  "Oh  my 
Dream  Girl!  Are  you  afraid  of  me  yet?  Won't  you 
trust  me?     Won't  you  come?" 

"No." 

"You  are  right  about  that,  my  lady;  you  will  come 
back  to  the  house,  that's  what  you'll  do,"  said  Henry 
Jameson,  starting  toward  her. 

"No!"  cried  the  Girl  retreating.  "Oh  Heaven  help 
me!     What  am  I  to  do?" 

"Ruth,  you  must  come  with  me,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"I  don't  dare  leave  you  here." 

She  stood  between  them  and  gave  Henry  Jameson 
one  long,  searching  look.  Then  she  turned  to  the  Har- 
vester. 

"I  am  far  less  afraid  of  you.  I  will  accept  your  offer," 
she  said. 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  will  keep  my 
word  and  you  shall  have  no  regrets.  Is  there  anything 
here  you  wish  to  take  with  you?" 


232  THE  HARVESTER 

"I  want  a  little  trunk  of  my  mother's.  It  contains 
some  things  of  hers." 

"Will  you  show  me  where  it  is?" 

She  started  toward  the  house;  he  followed,  and  Henry 
Jameson  fell  in  line.  The  Harvester  turned  on  him. 
"You  remain  where  you  are,"  he  said.  "I  will  take 
nothing  but  the  trunk.  I  know  what  you  are  thinking, 
but  you  will  not  get  your  gun  just  now.  I  will  return 
this  revolver  to-morrow." 

"And  the  first  thing  I  do  with  it  will  be  to  use  it  on 
you,"  said  Henry  Jameson. 

"I'll  report  that  threat  to  the  police,  so  that  they 
can  see  you  properly  hanged  if  you  do,"  retorted  the 
Harvester,  as  he  followed  the  girl. 

"Where  is  his  gun?"  he  asked  as  he  overtook  her. 
When  he  reached  the  house  he  told  her  to  watch  the 
door.  He  went  inside,  broke  the  lock  from  the  gun  in 
the  corner,  found  the  trunk,  and  swinging  it  to  his 
shoulder,  passed  Henry  Jameson  and  went  back  through 
the  woods.  The  Harvester  set  the  trunk  in  the  wagon, 
helped  the  Girl  in,  and  returned  for  the  load  he  had 
dropped  at  her  call.  Then  he  took  the  lines  and  started 
for  Onabasha. 

The  Girl  beside  him  was  almost  fainting.  He  stopped 
to  give  her  a  drink  and  tried  to  encourage  her. 

"Brace  up  the  best  you  can,  Ruth,"  he  said.  "You 
must  go  with  me  for  a  license;  that  is  the  law.  After- 
ward, I'll  make  it  just  as  easy  for  you  as  possible.  I 
will    do   everything,    and    in   a   few   hours   you   will   be 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"   233 

comfortable  in  your  room.  You  brave  girl!  This  must 
come  out  right!  You  have  suffered  more  than  your 
share.  I  will  have  peace  for  you  the  remainder  of  the 
way." 

She  lifted  shaking  hands  and  tried  to  arrange  her 
hair  and  dress.     As  they  neared  the  city  she  spoke. 

"What  will  they  ask  me?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  am  sure  the  law  requires  you 
to  appear  in  person  now.  I  can  take  you  somewhere 
and  find  out  first." 

"That  will  take  time.  I  want  to  reach  my  room. 
What  would  you  think?" 

"If  you  are  of  age,  where  you  were  born,  if  you  are 
a  native  of  this  country,  what  your  father  and  mother 
died  of,  how  old  they  were,  and  such  questions  as  that. 
I'll  help  you  all  I  can.  You  know  those  things,  don't 
you?" 


"Yes.     But  I  must  tell  you " 

"I  don't  want  to  be  told  anything,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"Save  your  strength.  All  I  want  to  know  is  any  way 
in  which  I  can  make  this  easier  for  you.  Nothing  else 
matters.  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think;  if  you  have  any 
objections,  make  them.  I  will  drive  to  the  bank  and  get 
a  draft  for  what  you  owe,  and  have  that  off  your  mind. 
Then  we  will  get  the  license.  After  that  I'll  take  you 
to  the  side  door,  slip  you  in  the  elevator  and  to  the 
fitting  room  of  a  store  where  I  know  the  manager,  and 
you  shall  have  some  pretty  clothing  while  I  arrange  for 
a  minister,  and  I'll  come  for  you  with  a  carriage.     That 


234  THE  HARVESTER 

isn't  the  kind  of  wedding  you  or  any  other  girl  should 
have,  but  there  are  times  when  a  man  only  can  do  his 
best.  You  will  help  me  as  much  as  you  can,  won't 
you?" 

"  Anything  you   choose.     It  doesn't  matter only 

be  quick  as  possible." 

"There  are  a  few  details  to  which  I  must  attend," 
said  the  Harvester,  "and  the  time  will  go  faster  trying 
on  dresses  than  waiting  alone.  When  you  are  properly 
clothed  you  will  feel  better.  What  did  you  say  the 
amount  you  owe  is?" 

"You  may  get  a  draft  for  fifty  dollars.  I  will  pay  the 
remainder  when  I  earn  it." 

"Ruth,  won't  you  give  me  the  pleasure  of  taking  you 
home  free  from  the  worry  of  that  debt?" 

"I  am  not  going  to  'worry.'  I  am  going  to  work  and 
pay  it." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Harvester.  "This  is  the  bank. 
We  will  stop  here." 

They  went  in  and  he  handed  her  a  slip  of  paper. 

"WTrite  the  name  and  address  on  that?"  he  said. 

As  the  slip  was  returned  to  him,  without  a  glance  he 
folded  it  and  slid  it  under  a  wicket.  "Write  a  draft 
for  fifty  dollars  payable  to  that  party,  and  send  to  that 
address,  from  Miss  Ruth  Jameson."  he  said. 

Then  he  turned  to  her. 

"That  is  over.  See  how  easy  it  is!  Now  we  will  go 
to  the  court  house.  It  is  very  close.  Try  not  to  think. 
Just  move  and  speak." 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    235 

"Hello,  Langston!"  said  the  clerk.  "What  can  we  do 
for  you  here?" 

"Show  this  girl  every  consideration,"  whispered  the 
Harvester,  as  he  advanced.  "  I  want  a  marriage  license  in 
your  best  time.     I  will  answer  first." 

With  the  document  in  his  possession,  they  went  to 
the  store  he  designated,  where  he  found  the  Girl  a  chair 
in  the  fitting  room,  while  he  went  to  see  the  manager. 

"I  want  one  of  your  most  sensible  and  accommodating 
clerks,"  said  the  Harvester,  "and  I  would  like  a  few  words 
with  her." 

When  she  was  presented  he  scrutinized  her  carefully 
and  decided  she  would  do. 

"I  have  many  thanks  and  something  more  substantial 
for  a  woman  who  will  help  me  to  carry  through  a  slightly 
unusual  project  with  sympathy  and  ability,"  he  said, 
"and  the  manager  has  selected  you.     Are  you  willing?" 

"If  I  can,"  said  the  clerk. 

"She  has  put  up  your  other  orders,"  interposed  the 
manager;  "were  they  satisfactory?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  Harvester.  "They  have  not 
yet  reached  the  one  for  whom  they  were  intended.  What 
I  want  you  to  do,"  he  said  to  the  clerk,  "is  to  go  to  the 
fitting  room  and  dress  the  girl  you  find  there  for  her 
wedding.  She  had  other  plans,  but  death  disarranged 
them,  and  she  has  only  an  hour  in  which  to  meet  the 
event  most  girls  love  to  linger  over  for  months.  She 
has  been  ill,  and  is  worn  with  watching;  but  some  time 
she  may  look  back  to  her  wedding  day  with  joy,  and  if 


236  THE  HARVESTER 

only  you  would  help  me  to  make  the  best  of  it  for  her, 
I  would  be,  as  I  said,  under  more  obligations  than  I  can 
express." 

"I  will  do  anything,"  said  the  clerk. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Harvester.  "She  has  come  from 
the  country  entirely  unprepared.  She  is  delicate  and 
refined.  Save  her  all  the  embarrassment  you  can.  Dress 
her  beautifully  in  white.  Keep  a  memorandum  slip  of 
what  you  spend  for  my  account." 

"What  is  the  limit?"  asked  the  clerk. 

"There  is  none,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Put  the  prettiest 
things  on  her  you  have  in  the  right  sizes,  and  if  you  are 
a  woman  with  a  heart,  be  gentle!" 

"Is  she  ready?"  inquired  the  manager  at  the  door  an 
hour  later. 

"I  am,"  said  the  Girl  stepping  through. 

The  astounded  Harvester  stood  and  stared,  utterly 
oblivious  of  the  curious  people. 

"Here,  here,  here!"  suddenly  he  whistled  it,  in  the 
red  bird's  most  entreating  tones. 

The  Girl  laughed  and  the  colour  in  her  face  deepened. 

"Let  us  go,"  she  said. 

"But  what  about  you?"  asked  the  manager  of  the 
Harvester. 

"Thunder!"  cried  the  man  aghast.  "I  was  so  busy 
getting  everything  else  ready,  I  forgot  all  about  myself. 
I  can't  stand  before  a  minister  beside  her,  can  I?" 

"Well  I  should  say  not,"  said  the  manager. 

"Indeed  yes,"   said   the  Girl.     "I   never  saw  you   in 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    237 

any  other  clothing.     You  would  be  a  stranger  of  whom 
I'd  be  afraid." 

"That  settles  it!"  said  the  Harvester  calmly.  "Thank 
all  of  you  more  than  words  can  express.  I  will  come  in 
the  first  of  the  week  and  tell  you  how  we  get  along." 

Then  they  went  to  the  carriage  and  started  for  the 
residence  of  a  minister. 

"Ruth,  you  are  my  Dream  Girl  to  the  tips  of  your 
eyelashes,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  almost  wish  you 
were  not.  It  wouldn't  keep  me  thinking  so  much  of  the 
remainder  of  that  dream.  You  are  the  loveliest  sight 
I  ever  saw." 

"Do  I  really  appear  well?"  asked  the  Girl,  hungry 
for  appreciation. 

'Indeed  you  do!"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  never  could 
have  guessed  that  such  a  miracle  could  be  wrought.  And 
you  don't  seem  so  tired.     Were  they  good  to  you?" 

"Wonderfully!  I  did  not  know  there  was  kindness 
like  that  in  all  the  world  for  a  stranger.  I  did  not  feel 
lost  or  embarrassed,  except  the  first  few  seconds  when 
I  didn't  know  what  to  do.  Oh  I  thank  you  for  this! 
You  were  right.  Whatever  comes  in  life  I  always  shall 
love  to  remember  that  I  was  daintily  dressed  and 
appeared  as  well  as  I  could  when  I  was  married.  But 
I  must  tell  you  I  am  not  real.  They  did  everything 
on  earth  to  me,  three  of  them  working  at  a  time.  I  feel 
an  increase  in  self-respect  in  some  way.  David,  I  do 
appear  better?" 

When  she  said  "David,"  the  Harvester  looked  out  of 


23  8  THE  HARVESTER 

the  window  and  gulped  down  his  delight.  He  leaned 
toward  her. 

"Shut  your  eyes  and  imagine  you  see  the  red  bird," 
he  said.  "In  my  soul,  I  am  saying  to  you  again  and 
again  just  what  he  sang.  You  are  wonderfully  beauti- 
ful, Ruth,  and  more  than  wonderfully  sweet.  Will  you 
answer  me  a  question?" 

"If  I  can." 

"I  love  you  with  all  my  heart.     Will  you  marry  me?" 

"I  said  I  would." 

"Then  we  are  engaged,  aren't  we?" 

"Yes." 

"Please  remove  the  glove  from  your  left  hand.  I  want 
to  put  on  your  ring.  This  will  have  to  be  a  very  short 
engagement,  but  no  one  save  ourselves  need  know." 

"David,  that  isn't  necessary." 

"I  have  it  here,  and  believe  me,  Ruth,  it  will  help  in  a 
few  minutes;  and  all  your  life  you  will  be  glad.  It  is  a 
precious  symbol  that  has  a  meaning.  This  wedding  won't 
be  hurt  by  putting  all  the  sacredness  into  it  we  can. 
Please,  Ruth!" 

"On  one  condition." 

"What  is  it?" 

"That  you  will  accept  and  wear  my  mother's  wedding 
ring  in  exchange,"  she  said.     "It  is  all  I  have." 

"Ruth,  do  you  really  wish  that?" 

"I  do." 

"I  am  more  pleased  than  I  can  tell  you.  May  I  have 
it  now?" 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    239 

She  took  off  her  glove  and  the  Harvester  held  her 
hand  closely  a  second,  then  lifted  it  to  his  lips,  passion- 
ately kissed  it  and  slipped  on  a  ring,  the  setting  a  big, 
lustrous  pearl. 

"I  looked  at  some  others,"  he  said,  "but  nothing 
got  a  second  glance  save  this.  They  knew  you  were 
coming  down  the  ages,  and  so  they  got  the  pearls  ready. 
How  beautiful  it  is  on  your  hand!  Put  on  the  glove 
and  wear  that  ring  as  if  you  had  owned  it  for  the  long, 
happy  year  of  betrothal  every  girl  should  have.  You 
can  start  yours  to-day,  and  if  by  this  time  next  year  I 
have  not  won  you  to  my  heart  and  arms,  I'm  no  man 
and  not  worthy  of  you.  Ruth,  you  will  try  just  a  little 
to  love  me,  won't  you?" 

"I  will  try  with  all  my  heart,"  she  said  instantly. 

"Thank  you!  I  am  perfectly  happy  with  that.  I 
never  expected  to  marry  you  before  a  year,  anyway. 
All  the  difference  will  be  the  blessed  fact  that  instead 
of  coming  to  see  you  somewhere  else,  I  now  can  have 
you  in  my  care,  and  court  you  every  minute.  You 
might  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  capitulate  soon. 
It's  on  the  books  that  you  do." 

"If  an  instant  ever  comes  when  I  realize  that  I  love 
you,  I  will  come  straight  and  tell  you;  believe  me,  I 
will." 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester.  "This  is  going 
to  be  quite  a  proper  wedding  after  all.  Here  is  the 
place.  It  will  be  over  soon  and  you  on  the  home  way. 
Lord,  Ruth !" 


24o  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Girl  smiled  at  him  as  he  opened  the  carriage  door, 
helped  her  up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell. 

"Be  brave  now!"  he  whispered.  "Don't  lose  your 
lovely  colour.  These  people  will  be  as  kind  as  they  were 
at  the  store." 

The  minister  was  gentle  and  wasted  no  time.  His 
wife  and  daughter,  who  appeared  for  witnesses,  kissed 
Ruth,  and  congratulated  her.  She  and  the  Harvester 
stood,  took  the  vows,  exchanged  rings,  and  returned  to 
the  carriage,  a  man  and  his  wife  by  the  laws  of 
man. 

"Drive  to  Seaton's  cafe,"  the  Harvester  said. 

"Oh  David,  let  us  go  home!" 

"This  is  so  good  I  hate  to  stop  it  for  something  you 
may  not  like  so  well.  I  ordered  lunch  and  if  we  don't 
eat  it  I  will  have  to  pay  for  it  anyway.  You  wouldn't 
want  me  to  be  extravagant,  would  you?" 

"No,"  said  the  Girl,  "and  besides,  since  you  mention 
it,  I  believe  I  am  hungry." 

"Good!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "I  hoped  so!  Ruth, 
you  wouldn't  allow  me  to  hold  your  hand  just  until  we 
reach  the  cafe?     It  might  save  me  from  bursting  with 

joy." 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "But  I  must  take  off  my  lovely 
gloves  first.     I  want  to  keep  them  forever." 

"I'd  hate  the  glove  being  removed  dreadfully,"  said 
the  Harvester,  his  eyes  dancing  and  snapping. 

"I'm  sorry  I  am  so  thin  and  shaky,"  said  the  Girl. 
"I  will  be  steady  and  plump  soon,  won't  I?" 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    241 

"On  your  life  you  will,"  said  the  Harvester,  taking 
the  hand  gently. 

Now  there  are  a  number  of  things  a  man  deeply  in 
love  can  think  of  to  do  with  a  woman's  white  hand. 
He  can  stroke  it,  press  it  tenderly,  and  lay  it  against  his 
lips  and  his  heart.  The  Harvester  lacked  experience 
in  these  arts,  and  yet  by  some  wonderful  instinct  all 
of  these  things  occurred  to  him.  There  was  real  colour 
in  the  Girl's  cheeks  by  the  time  he  helped  her  into  the 
cafe.  They  were  guided  to  a  small  room,  cool  and  restful, 
close  a  window,  beside  which  grew  a  tree  covered  with 
talking  leaves.  A  waiting  attendant,  who  seemed  per- 
fectly adept,  brought  in  steaming  bouillon,  fragrant  tea, 
broiled  chicken,  properly  cooked  vegetables,  a  wonderful 
salad,  and  then  delicious  ices  and  cold  fruit.  The  happy 
Harvester  leaned  back  and  watched  the  Girl  daintily 
manage  almost  as  much  food  as  he  wanted  to  see  her 
eat. 

When  they  had  finished,  "Now  we  are  going  home," 
he  said.     "Will  you  try  to  like  it,  Ruth?" 

"Indeed  I  will,"  she  promised.  "As  soon  as  I  grow 
accustomed  to  the  dreadful  stillness,  and  learn  what 
things  will  not  bite  me,  I'll  be  better." 

"I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  wait  a  minute,"  he  said. 
"One  thing  I  forgot.  I  must  hire  a  man  to  take  Betsy 
home." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  drive  her  yourself?" 

"No  ma'am!  We  are  going  in  a  carriage  or  a  motor," 
said  the  Harvester. 


242  THE  HARVESTER 

"Indeed  we  are  not!"  contradicted  the  Girl.  "You 
have  had  this  all  your  way  so  far.  I  am  going  home 
behind  Betsy,  with  Belshazzar  at  my  knee." 

"But  your  dress!  People  will  think  I  am  crazy  to 
put  a  lovely  woman  like  you  in  a  spring  wagon." 

"Let  them!"  said  the  Girl  placidly.  "Why  should 
we  bother  about  other  people?  I  am  going  with  Betsy 
and  Belshazzar." 

The  Harvester  had  been  thinking  that  he  adored  her, 
that  it  was  impossible  to  love  her  more,  but  every 
minute  was  proving  to  him  that  he  was  capable  of  feeling 
so  profound  it  startled  him.  To  carry  the  Girl,  his 
bride,  through  the  valley  and  up  the  hill  in  the  little 
spring  wagon  drawn  by  Betsy  —  that  would  have  been 
his  ideal  way.  But  he  had  supposed  that  she  would  be 
afraid  of  soiling  her  dress,  and  embarrassed  to  ride  in 
such  a  conveyance.  Instead  it  was  her  choice.  Yes, 
he  could  love  her  more.  Hourly  she  was  proving 
that. 

"Come  this  way  a  few  steps,"  he  said.  "Betsy  is 
here." 

The  Girl  laid  her  face  against  the  nose  of  the  faithful 
old  animal,  and  stroked  her  head  and  neck.  Then  she 
held  her  skirts  and  the  Harvester  helped  her  into  the 
wagon.     She  took  the  seat,  and  the  dog  went  wild  with 

joy- 

"Come  on,  Bel,"  she  softly  commanded. 
The  dog  hesitated,   and  looked  at  the  Harvester  for 
permission. 


"WAY  OF  A  MAN  WITH  A  MAID"    243 

"You  may  come  here  and  put  your  head  on  my  knee," 
said  the  Girl. 

"Belshazzar,  you  lucky  dog,  you  are  privileged  to  sit 
there  and  lay  your  head  on  the  lady's  lap,"  said  the 
Harvester,  and  the  dog  quivered  with  joy. 

Then  the  man  picked  up  the  lines,  gave  a  backward 
glance  to  the  bed  of  the  wagon,  high  piled  with  large 
bundles,  and  turned  Betsy  toward  Medicine  Woods. 
Through  the  crowded  streets  and  toward  the  country 
they  drove,  when  a  big  red  car  passed,  a  man  called 
to  them,  then  reversed  and  slowly  began  backing  beside 
the  wagon.     The  Harvester  stopped. 

"That  is  my  best  friend,  Doctor  Carey,  of  the  hospital, 
Ruth,"  he  said  hastily.     "May  I  tell  him,  and  will  you 
shake  hands  with  him?" 
"Certainly!"  said  the  Girl. 

"Is  it  really  you,  David?"  the  doctor  peered  with 
gleaming  eyes  from  under  the  car  top. 

"Really!"  cried  the  Harvester,  as  man  greets  man  with 
a  full  heart  when  he  is  sure  of  sympathy.  "Come,  give 
us  your  best  send-off,  Doc!  We  were  married  an  hour 
ago.  We  are  headed  for  Medicine  Woods.  Doctor 
Carey,  this  is  Mrs.  Langston."  « 

"Mighty  glad  to  know  you!"  cried  the  doctor,  reaching 
a  happy  hand. 

The    Girl    met    it    cordially,    while    she    smiled    on 

him. 

"How  did  this  happen?"  demanded  the  doctor.  "Why 
didn't  you   let  us   know?     This   is   hardly  fair  of  you, 


244  THE  HARVESTER 

David.  You  might  have  let  me  and  the  Missus  share 
with  you." 

"That  is  to  be  explained,"  said  the  Harvester.  "It 
was  decided  on  very  suddenly,  and  rather  sadly,  on 
account  of  the  death  of  Mrs.  Jameson.  I  forced  Ruth 
to  marry  me  and  come  with  me.  I  grow  rather  frightened 
when  I  think  of  it,  but  it  was  the  only  way  I  knew.  She 
absolutely  refused  my  other  plans.  You  see  before  you 
a  wild  man  carrying  away  a  woman  to  his  cave." 

"Don't  believe  him,  Doctor!"  laughed  the  Girl.  "If 
you  know  him,  you  will  understand  that  to  offer  all  he 
had  was  like  him,  when  he  saw  my  necessity.  You  will 
come  to  see  us  soon?" 

"I'll  come  right  now,"  said  the  doctor.  "I'll  bring 
my  wife  and  arrive  by  the  time  you  do." 

"Oh  no  you  won't!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Do  you 
observe  the  bed  of  this  wagon?  This  happened  all 
c unbeknownst'  to  us.  We  have  to  set  up  housekeeping 
after  we  reach  home.  We  will  notify  you  when  we  are 
ready  for  visitors.  Just  you  subside  and  wait  until  you 
are  sent  for." 

"Why  David!"  cried  the  astonished  Girl. 

"That's  the  law!"  said  the  Harvester  tersely.  "Good- 
bye, Doc;  we'll  be  rtady  for  you  in  a  day  or  two." 

He  leaned  down  and  held  out  his  hand.  The  grip 
that  caught  it  said  all  any  words  could  convey;  and 
then  Betsy  started  up  tine  hill. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
When  the  Dream  Came  True 

AT  FIRST  the  road  lay  between  fertile  farms 
dotted  with  shocked  wheat,  covered  with 
k  undulant  seas  of  ripening  oats,  and  forests 
of  growing  corn.  The  larks  were  trailing  melody  above 
the  shorn  and  growing  fields,  the  quail  were  ingathering 
beside  the  fences,  and  from  the  forests  on  graceful  wings 
slipped  the  nighthawks  and  sailed  and  soared,  dropping 
so  low  that  the  half  moons  formed  by  white  spots  on 
their  spread  wings  showed  plainly. 

"Why  is  this  country  so  different  from  the  other  side 
of  the  city?"     asked  the  Girl. 

"It  is  older,"  replied  the  Harvester,  "and  it  lies  higher. 
This  was  settled  and  well  cultivated  when  that  was  a 
swamp.  But  as  a  farming  proposition,  the  money  is 
in  the  lowland  like  your  uncle's.  The  crops  raised  there 
are  enormous  compared  with  the  yield  of  these  fields." 

"I  see,"  said  she.  "But  this  is  much  better  to  look 
at  and  the  air  is  different.  It  lacks  a  soggy,  depressing 
quality." 

"I  don't  allow  any  air  to  surpass  that  of  Medicine 
Woods,"  said  the  Harvester,  "by  especial  arrangement 
with  the  powers  that  be." 

245 


246  THE  HARVESTER 

Then  they  dipped  into  a  little  depression  and  arose  to 
cross  the  railroad  and  then  followed  a  longer  valley 
that  was  ragged  and  unkempt  compared  with  the  road 
between  cultivated  fields.  The  Harvester  was  busy 
trying  to  plan  what  to  do  first,  and  how  to  do  it  most 
effectively,  and  working  his  brain  to  think  if  he  had 
everything  the  Girl  would  require  for  her  comfort;  so 
he  drove  silently  through  the  deepening  shadows.  She 
shuddered  and  awoke  him  suddenly.  He  glanced  at 
her  from  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

Her  thoughts  had  gone  on  a  journey,  also,  and  the 
way  had  been  rough,  for  her  face  wore  a  strained  ap- 
pearance. The  hands  lying  bare  in  her  lap  were  tightly 
gripped,  so  that  the  nails  and  knuckles  appeared  blue. 
The  Harvester  hastily  cast  around  seeking  for  the  cause 
of  the  transformation.  A  few  minutes  ago  she  had 
seemed  at  ease  and  comfortable,  now  she  was  close  open 
panic.  Nothing  had  been  said  that  would  disturb  her. 
With  brain  alert  he  searched  for  the  reason.  Then  it 
began  to  come  to  him.  The  unaccustomed  silence  and 
depression  of  the  country  might  have  been  the  beginning. 
Coming  from  the  city  and  crowds  of  people  to  the  gloomy 
valley  with  a  man  almost  a  stranger,  going  she  knew  not 
where,  to  conditions  she  knew  not  what,  with  the  ex- 
periences of  the  day  vivid  before  her.  The  black  valley 
road  was  not  prepossessing,  with  its  border  of  green 
pools,  through  which  grew  swamp  bushes  and  straggling 
vines.  The  Harvester  looked  carefully  at  the  road, 
and  ceased  to  marvel  at  the  Girl.     But  he  disliked  to  let 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    247 

her  know  he  understood,  so  he  gave  one  last  glance  at 
those  gripped  hands  and  casually  held  out  the  lines. 

"Will  you  take  these  just  a  second?"  he  asked. 
"  Don't  let  them  touch  your  dress.  We  must  not  lose  any 
of  our  load,  because  it's  mostly  things  that  will  make 
you  more  comfortable." 

He  arose,  and  turning,  pretended  to  see  that  every- 
thing was  all  right.  Then  he  resumed  his  seat  and 
drove  on. 

"I  am  a  little  ashamed  of  this  stretch  through  here," 
he  said  apologetically.  "I  could  have  managed  to  have 
it  cleared  and  in  better  shape  long  ago,  but  in  a  way 
it  yields  a  snug  profit,  and  so  far  I've  preferred  the 
money.  The  land  is  not  mine,  but  I  could  grub  out 
this  growth  entirely,  instead  of  taking  only  what  I  need. " 

"Is  there  stuff  here  you  use?"  the  Girl  aroused 
herself  to  ask,  and  the  Harvester  saw  the  look  of  relief 
that  crossed  her  face  at  the  sound  of  his  voice. 

"Well  I  should  say  yes,"  he  laughed.  "Those  bushes, 
numerous  everywhere,  with  the  hanging  yellow-green 
balls,  those,  in  bark  and  root,  go  into  fever  medicines. 
They  are  not  so  much  used  now,  but  sometimes  I  have 

a  call,  and  when  I  do,  I  pass  the  beds  on  my on  our 

land,  and  come  down  here  and  get  what  is  needed. 
That  bush,"  he  indicated  with  the  whip,  "blooms 
exquisitely  in  the  spring.  It  is  a  relative  of  flowering 
dogwood,  and  the  one  of  its  many  names  I  like  best  is 
silky  cornel.     Isn't  that  pretty?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "it  is  beautiful." 


248  THE  HARVESTER 

"I've  planted  some  for  you  in  a  hedge  along  the  drive- 
way so  next  spring  you  can  gather  all  you  want.  I 
think  you'll  like  the  odour.  The  bark  brings  more  than 
true  dogwood.  If  I  get  a  call  from  some  house  that  uses 
it,  I  save  mine  and  come  down  here.  Around  the  edge 
are  hop  trees,  and  I  realize  something  from  them,  and 
also  the  false  and  true  bitter-sweet  that  run  riot  here. 
Both  of  them  have  pretty  leaves,  while  the  berries  of  the 
true  hang  all  winter  and  the  colour  is  gorgeous.  I've 
set  your  hedge  closely  with  them.  When  it  has  grown 
a  few  months  it's  going  to  furnish  flowers  in  the  spring,  a 
million  different,  wonderful  leaves  and  berries  in  the 
summer,  many  fruits  the  birds  love  in  the  fall,  and  bright 
berries,  queer  seed  pods,  and  nuts  all  winter." 

"  You  planted  it  for  me?" 

"Yes.  I  think  it  will  be  beautiful  in  a  season  or  two; 
it  isn't  so  bad  now.  I  hope  it  will  call  myriads  of  birds 
to  keep  you  company.  When  you  cross  this  stretch  of 
road  hereafter,  don't  see  fetid  water  and  straggling  bushes 
and  vines;  just  say  to  yourself,  this  helps  to  fill  orders!" 

"I  am  perfectly  tolerant  of  it  now,"  she  said.  "You 
make  everything  different.  I  will  come  with  you  and 
help  collect  the  roots  and  barks  you  want.  Which 
bush  did  you  say  relieved  the  poor  souls  scorching  with 
fever?" 

The  Harvester  drew  on  the  lines,  Betsy  swerved  to 
the  edge  of  the  road,  and  he  leaned  and  broke  a  branch. 

"This  one,"  he  answered.  "Buttonbush,  because 
those   balls    resemble    round     buttons.       Aren't    they 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    249 

peculiar?  See  how  waxy  and  gracefully  cut  and  set 
the  leaves  are.  Go  on,  Betsy,  get  us  home  before  night. 
We  appear  our  best  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  sun 
tops  Medicine  Woods  and  begins  to  light  us  up,  and  in 
the  evening,  just  when  she  drops  behind  Onabasha  back 
there,  and  strikes  us  with  a  few  level  rays.  Will  you 
take  the  lines  until  I  open  this  gate?" 

She  laid  the  twig  in  her  lap  on  the  white  gloves  and 
took  the  lines.  As  the  gate  swung  wide,  Betsy  walked 
through  and  stopped  at  the  usual  place. 

"Now  my  girl,"  said  the  Harvester,  "cross  yourself, 
lean  back,  and  take  your  ease.  This  side  that  gate 
you  are  at  home.     From  here  on  belongs  to  us. " 

"To  you,  you  mean,"  said  the  Girl. 

"To  us,  I  mean,"  declared  the  Harvester.  "Don't 
you  know  that  the  'worldly  goods  bestowal'  clause  in  a 
marriage  ceremony  is  a  partial  reality.  It  doesn't  give 
you  'all  my  worldly  goods,'  but  it  gives  you  one  third. 
Which  will  you  take,  the  hill,  lake,  marsh,  or  a  part  of 
all  of  them." 

"Oh,  is  there  water?" 

"Did  I  forget  to  mention  that  I  was  formerly  sole 
owner  and  proprietor  of  the  lake  of  Lost  Loons,  also  a 
brook  of  Singing  Water,  and  many  cold  springs.  The 
lake  covers  about  one  third  of  our  land,  and  my  neigh- 
bours would  allow  me  ditch  outlet  to  the  river,  but  they 
say  I'm  too  lazy  to  take  it." 

"Lazy!  Do  they  mean  drain  your  lake  into  the 
river?" 


250  THE  HARVESTER 

"They  do,"  said  the  Harvester,  "and  make  the  bed 
into  a  cornfield." 

"But  you  wouldn't?" 

She  turned  to  him  with  confidence. 

"I   haven't  so  far,   but  of  course,   when  you   see  it, 

if  you  would  prefer  it  in  a  corn Let's  play  a  game! 

Turn  your  head  in  this  direction,"  he  indicated  with 
the  whip,  "close  your  eyes,  and  open  them  when  I  say 
ready." 

"All  right!" 

"Now!"  said  the  Harvester. 

"Oh, "  cried  the  Girl.     " Stop !     Please  stop ! " 

They  were  at  the  foot  of  a  small  levee  that  ran  to  the 
bridge  crossing  Singing  Water.  On  the  left  lay  the  valley 
through  which  the  stream  swept  from  its  hurried  rush 
down  the  hill,  a  marshy  thicket  of  vines,  shrubs,  and 
bushes,  the  banks  impassable  with  water  growth.  Every- 
where flamed  foxfire  and  cardinal  flower,  thousands  of 
wild  tiger  lilies  lifted  gorgeous  orange-red  trumpets, 
beside  pearl-white  turtle  head  and  moon  daisies,  while 
all  the  creek  bank  was  a  coral  line  with  the  first  opening 
bloom  of  big  pink  mallows.  Rank  jewel  flower  poured 
gold  from  dainty  cornucopias  and  lavender  beard-tongue 
offered  honey  to  a  million  bumbling  bees;  water  smart- 
weed  spread  a  glowing  pink  background,  and  twining 
amber  dodder  topped  the  marsh  in  lacy  mist  with  its 
delicate  white  bloom.  Straight  before  them  a  white- 
sanded  road  climbed  to  the  bridge  and  up  a  gentle  hill 
between    the   young   hedge   of   small    trees    and   bushes, 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    251 

where  again  flowers  and  bright  colours  rioted  and  led 
to  the  cabin  yet  invisible.  On  the  right,  the  hill,  crowned 
with  gigantic  forest  trees,  sloped  to  the  lake;  midway 
the  building  stood,  and  from  it,  among  scattering  trees 
all  the  way  to  the  water's  edge,  were  immense  beds  of 
vivid  colour.  Like  a  scarf  of  gold  flung  across  the  face 
of  earth  waved  the  misty  saffron,  and  beside  the  road 
running  down  the  hill,  in  a  sunny,  open  space  arose 
tree-like  specimens  of  thrifty  magenta  pokeberry.  Down 
the  hill  crept  the  masses  of  colour,  changing  from  dry 
soil  to  water  growth. 

High  around  the  blue-green  surface  of  the  lake  waved 
lacy  heads  of  wild  rice,  lower  cat-tails,  bulrushes,  and 
marsh  grasses;  arrowhead  lilies  lifted  spines  of  pearly 
bloom,  while  yellow  water  lilies  and  blue  water  hyacinths 
intermingled;  here  and  there  grew  a  pink  stretch  of  water 
smartweed  and  the  dangling  gold  of  jewel  flower.  Over 
the  water,  bordering  the  edge,  starry  faces  of  white  pond 
lilies  floated.  Blue  flags  waved  graceful  leaves,  willows 
grew  in  clumps,  and  vines  clambered  everywhere. 

Among  the  growth  of  the  lake  shore,  duck,  coot, 
and  grebe  voices  commingled  in  the  last  chattering 
hastened  splash  of  securing  supper  before  bedtime;  crying 
killdeers  crossed  the  water,  and  overhead  the  night- 
hawks  massed  in  circling  companies.  Betsy  climbed  the 
hill  and  at  every  step  the  Girl  cried,  "Slower!  please  go 
slower!"     With  wide  eyes  she  stared  around  her. 

" Why  didn't  you  tell  me  it  would  be  like  this?"  she 
demanded  in  awed  tones. 


252  THE  HARVESTER 

"Have  I  had  opportunity  to  describe  much  of  any- 
thing?" asked  the  Harvester.  "Besides,  I  was  born 
and  reared  here,  and  while  it  has  been  a  garden  of  bloom 
for  the  past  six  years  only,  it  always  has  been  a  picture; 
but  one  forgets  to  say  much  about  a  sight  seen  every 
day  and  that  requires  the  work  this  does." 

"That  white  mist  down  there,  what  is  it?"  she  mar- 
velled. 

"Pearls  grown  by  the  Almighty,"  answered  the  Har- 
vester. "Flowers  that  I  hope  you  will  love.  They 
are  like  you.  Tall  and  slender,  graceful,  pearl  white  and 
pearl  pure those  are  the  arrowhead  lilies." 

"And  the  wonderful  purplish-red  there  on  the  bank? 
Oh,  I  could  kneel  and  pray  before  colour  like  that!" 

"Pokeberry!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Roots  bring  five 
cents  a  pound.     Good  blood  purifier." 

"Man!"  cried  the  Girl.  "How  can  you?  I'm  not 
going  to  ask  what  another  colour  is.  I'll  just  worship 
what  I  like  in  silence." 

"Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  tell  you  what  a  woman 
whose  judgment  I  respect  says  about  that  colour?" 

"Perhaps!" 

"She  says,  'God  proves  that  He  loves  it  best  of  all  the 
tints  in  His  workshop  by  using  it  first  and  most  sparingly.' 
Now  are  you  going  to  punish  me  by  keeping  silent?" 

"I  couldn't  if  I  tried." 

Just  then  they  came  upon  the  bridge  crossing 
Singing  Water,  and  there  was  a  long  view  of  its 
border,    rippling    bed,    and    marshy    banks;    while    on 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    253 

the  other  hand  the  lake  resembled  a  richly  incrusted 
sapphire. 

"Is  the  house  close?" 

"Just  a  few  rods,  at  the  turn  of  the  drive. " 

"Please  help  me  down.  I  want  to  remain  here  a  while. 
I  don't  care  what  else  there  is  to  see.  Nothing  can 
equal  this.  I  wish  I  could  bring  down  a  bed  and  sleep 
here.  I'd  like  to  have  a  table,  and  draw  and  paint. 
I  understand  now  what  you  mean  about  the  designs 
you  mentioned.  Why,  there  must  be  thousands!  I 
can't  go  on.  I  never  saw  anything  so  appealing  in  all 
my  life." 

Now  the  Harvester's  mother  had  designed  that  bridge 
and  he  had  built  it  with  much  care.  From  bark-covered 
railings  to  solid  oak  floor  and  comfortable  benches 
running  along  the  sides  it  was  intended  to  be  a  part  of 
the  landscape. 

"I'll  send  Belshazzar  to  the  cabin  with  the  wagon," 
he  said,  "so  you  can  see  better." 

"But  you  must  not!"  she  cried.  "I  can't  walk.  I 
wouldn't  soil  these  beautiful  shoes  for  anything." 

"Why  don't  you  change  them ?"  inquired  the  Harvester. 

"I  am  afraid  I  forgot  everything  I  had,"  said  the  Girl. 

"There  are  shoes  somewhere  in  this  load.  I  thought 
of  them  in  getting  other  things  for  you,  but  I  had  no 
idea  as  to  size,  and  so  I  told  that  clerk  to-day  when  she 
got  your  measure  to  put  in  every  kind  you'd  need." 

"You  are  horribly  extravagant,"  she  said.  "But  if 
you  have  them  here,  perhaps  I  could  use  one  pair. " 


254  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  mounted  the  wagon  and  hunted  until 
he  found  a  large  box,  and  opening  it  on  the  bench  he 
disclosed  almost  every  variety  of  shoe,  walking  shoe 
and  slipper,  a  girl  ever  owned,  as  well  as  sandals  and  high 
overshoes. 

"For  pity  sake!"  cried  the  Girl.  "Cover  that  box! 
You  frighten  me.  You'll  never  get  them  paid  for. 
You  must  take  them  straight  back." 

"Never  take  anything  back,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"'Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead,'  is  my  motto. 
Now  I  know  these  are  your  correct  size  and  that  for 
differing  occasions  you  will  want  just  such  shoes  as  other 
girls  have,  and  here  they  are.  Simple  as  life!  I  think 
these  will  serve  because  they  are  for  street  wear,  yet 
they  are  white  inside." 

He  produced  a  pair  of  canvas  walking  shoes  and  kneel- 
ing before  her  held  out  his  hand. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  loaded  the  box  on  the  wagon, 
gave  the  hitching  strap  to  Belshazzar,  and  told  him  to 
lead  Betsy  to  the  cabin  and  hold  her  until  he  came. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  Girl. 

"Now,"  he  said,  "look  as  long  as  you  choose.  But 
remember  that  the  law  gives  you  part  of  this  and  your 
lover,  which  same  am  I,  gives  you  the  remainder,  so 
you  are  privileged  to  come  here  at  any  hour  as  often  as 
you  please.  If  you  miss  anything  this  evening,  you 
have  all  time  to  come  in  which  to  re-examine  it. " 

"I'd  like  to  live  right  here  on  this  bridge,"  she  said. 
"I  wish  it  had  a  roof." 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    255 

"  Roof  it  to-morrow, "  offered  the  Harvester.  "  Simple 
matter  of  a  few  pillars  already  cut,  joists  joined,  and 
some  slab  shingles  left  from  the  cabin.  Anything  else 
your  ladyship  can  suggest?" 

"That  you  be  sensible." 

"I  was  born  that  way,"  explained  the  Harvester, 
'and  I've  cultivated  the  faculty  until  I've  developed 
real  genius.  Talking  of  sense,  there  never  was  a  proper 
marriage  in  which  the  man  didn't  give  the  woman  a 
present.  You  seem  likely  to  be  more  appreciative  of 
this  bridge  than  anything  else  I  have,  so  right  here  and 
now  would  be  the  appropriate  place  to  offer  you  my 
wedding  gift.  I  didn't  have  much  time,  but  I  couldn't 
have  found  anything  more  suitable  if  I'd  taken  a  year." 

He  held  out  a  small,  white  velvet  case. 

"Doesn't  that  look  as  if  it  were  made  for  a  bride?" 
he  asked. 

"It  does,"  answered  the  Girl.  "But  I  can't  take  it. 
You  are  not  doing  right.  Marrying  as  we  did,  you  never 
can  believe  that  I  love  you;  maybe  it  won't  ever  happen 
that  I  do.  I  have  no  right  to  accept  gifts  and  expensive 
clothing  from  you.  In  the  first  place,  if  the  love  you 
ask  never  comes,  there  is  no  possible  way  in  which  I  can 
repay  you.  In  the  second,  these  things  you  are  offering 
are  not  suitable  for  life  and  work  in  the  woods.  In  the 
third,  I  think  you  are  being  extravagant,  and  I  couldn't 
forgive  myself  if  I  allowed  that." 

"You  divide  your  statements  like  a  preacher,  don't 
you?"    asked    the    Harvester    ingenuously.     "Now    sit 


256  THE  HARVESTER 

thee  here  and  gaze  on  the  placid  lake  and  quiet  your 
troubled  spirit,  while  I  demolish  your  'perfectly  good' 
arguments.  In  the  first  place,  you  are  now  my  wife, 
and  you  have  a  right  to  take  anything  I  offer,  if  you 
care  for  it  or  can  use  it  in  any  manner.  In  the  second, 
you  must  recognize  a  difference  in  our  positions.  What 
seems  nothing  to  you  means  all  the  world  to  me,  and  you 
are  less  than  human  if  you  deprive  me  of  the  joy  of  ex- 
pressing feelings  I  am  in  honour  bound  to  keep  in  my 
heart,  by  these  little  material  offerings.  In  the  third 
place,   I  inherited  over  six  hundred  acres  of  land  and 

water,  please  observe  the  water it  is  now  in  evidence 

on  your  left.  All  my  life  I  have  been  taught  to  be 
frugal,  economical,  and  to  work.  All  I've  earned  either 
has  gone  back  into  land,  into  the  bank,  or  into  books, 
very  plain  food,  and  such  clothing  as  you  now  see  me 
wearing.  Just  the  value  of  this  place  as  it  stands,  with 
its  big  trees,  its  drug  crops  yielding  all  the  year  round, 
would  be  difficult  to  estimate;  and  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  on  the  top  of  that  hill  there  is  a  gold  mine, 
and  it's  mine ours  since  four  o'clock." 

"A  gold  mine!" 

"Acres  and  acres  of  wild  ginseng,  seven  years  of  age 
and  ready  to  harvest.  Do  you  remember  what  your  few 
pounds  brought?" 

"Why  it's  worth  thousands!" 

"Exactly!  For  your  peace  of  mind  I  might  add  that 
all  I  have  done  or  got  is  paid  for,  except  what  I  bought 
to-day,  and  I  will  write  a  check  for  that  as  soon  as  the 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    257 

bill  is  made  out.  My  bank  account  never  will  feel  it. 
Truly,  Ruth,  I  am  not  doing  or  going  to  do  anything 
extravagant.  I  can't  afford  to  give  you  diamond  neck- 
laces, yachts,  and  trips  to  Europe;  but  you  can  have 
the  contents  of  this  box  and  a  motor  boat  on  the  lake, 

a  horse  and  carriage,  and  a  trip say  to  New  York, 

perfectly  well.     Please  take  it. " 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  ask  me.  I  would  be  happier 
not  to." 

"Yes,  but  I  do  ask  you,"  persisted  the  Harvester. 
"You  are  not  the  only  one  to  be  considered.  I  have 
some  rights  also,  and  I'm  not  so  self-effacing  that  I 
won't  insist  upon  them.  From  your  standpoint  I  am 
almost  a  stranger.  You  have  spent  no  time  considering 
me  in  near  relations;  I  realize  that.  You  feel  as  if  you 
were  driven  here  for  a  refuge,  and  that  is  true.  I  said 
to  Belshazzar  one  day  that  I  must  remember  that  you 
had  no  dream,  and  had  spent  no  time  loving  me,  and  I 
do.  I  know  how  this  wedding  seems  to  you,  but  it's 
going  to  mean  something  different  and  better  soon, 
please  God.  I  can  see  your  side;  now  suppose  you 
take  a  look  at  mine.  I  did  have  a  dream,  it  was  my 
dream,  and  beyond  the  sum  of  any  delight  I  ever  con- 
ceived. On  the  strength  of  it  I  rebuilt  my  home  and 
remodelled  these  premises.  Then  I  saw  you,  and  from 
that  day  I  worked  early  and  late.  I  lost  you  and  I 
never  stopped  until  I  found  you;  and  I  would  have 
courted  and  won  you,  but  the  fates  intervened  and  here 
you  are!     So  it's  my  delight  to  court  and  win  you  now, 


258  THE  HARVESTER 

If  you  knew  the  difference  between  having  a  dream  that 
stirred  the  least  fibre  of  your  being  and  facing  the  world  in 
a  demand  for  realization  of  it,  and  then  finding  what  you 
coveted  in  the  palm  of  your  hand,  as  it  were,  you  would 
know  what  is  in  my  heart,  and  why  expression  of  some 
kind  is  necessary  to  me  just  now,  and  why  I'll  explode 
if  it  is  denied.  It  will  lower  the  tension,  if  you  will 
accept  this  as  a  matter  of  fact;  as  if  you  rather  expected 
and  liked  it,  if  you  can." 

The  Harvester  set  his  finger  on  the  spring. 

"Don't!"  she  said.  "I'll  never  have  the  courage  if 
you  do.  Give  it  to  me  in  the  case,  and  let  me  open  it. 
Despite  your  unanswerable  arguments,  I  am  quite  sure 
that  is  the  only  way  in  which  I  can  take  it. " 

The  Harvester  gave  her  the  box. 

"My  wedding  gift!"  she  exclaimed,  more  to  herself 
than  to  him.  "Why  should  I  be  the  buffet  of  all  the 
unkind  fates  kept  in  store  for  a  girl  my  whole  life,  and 
then  suddenly  be  offered  home,  beautiful  gifts,  and  won- 
derful loving  kindness  by  a  stranger?" 

The  Harvester  ran  his  fingers  through  his  crisp  hair, 
pulled  it  into  a  peak,  stepped  to  the  seat  and  sitting  on 
the  railing,  he  lifted  his  elbows,  tilted  his  head,  and 
began  a  motley  outpouring  of  half-spoken,  half-whistled 
trills  and  imploring  cries.  There  was  enough  similarity 
that  the  Girl  instantly  recognized  the  red  bird.  Out 
of  breath  the  Harvester  dropped  to  the  seat  beside  her. 

"And  don't  you  keep  forgetting  it!"  he  cried.  "Now 
open  that  box  and  put  on  the  trinket;  because  I  want 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    259 

to  take  you  to  the  cabin  when  the  sun  falls  level  on  the 
drive." 

She  opened  the  case,  exposing  a  thread  of  gold  that 
appeared  too  slender  for  the  weight  of  an  exquisite 
pendant,  set  with  shimmering  pearls. 

"If  you  will  look  down  there,"  the  Harvester  pointed 
over  the  railing  to  the  arrowhead  lilies  touched  with 
the  fading  light,  "you  will  see  that  they  are  similar." 

"They  are!"  cried  the  Girl.  "How  lovely!  Which  is 
more  beautiful  I  do  not  know.  And  you  won't  like  it 
if  I  say  I  must  not." 

She  held  the  open  case  toward  the  Harvester. 

"'Possession  is  nine  points  in  the  law,'"  he  quoted. 
"You  have  taken  it  already  and  it  is  in  your  hands; 
now  make  the  gift  perfect  for  me  by  putting  it  on  and 
saying  nothing  more." 

"My  wedding  gift!"  repeated  the  Girl.  Slowly  she 
lifted  the  beautiful  ornament  and  held  it  in  the  light. 
"I'm  so  glad  you  just  force  me  to  take  it,"  she  said. 
"Any  half-normal  girl  would  be  delighted.  I  do  accept 
it.  And  what's  more,  I  am  going  to  keep  and  wear  it 
and  my  ring  at  suitable  times  all  my  life,  in  memory 
of  what  you  have  done  to  be  kind  to  me  on  this  awful 
day." 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester.  "That  is  a  flash 
of  the  proper  spirit.     Allow  me  to  put  it  on  you." 

"No!"  said  the  Girl.  "Not  yet!  After  a  while!  I 
want  to  hold  it  in  my  hands,  where  I  can  see  it!" 

"Now  there  is  one  other  thing,"  said  the  Harvester. 


260  THE  HARVESTER 

"If  I  had  known  for  any  length  of  time  that  this  day  was 
coming  and  bringing  you,  as  most  men  know  when  a 
girl  is  to  be  given  into  their  care,  I  could  have  made  it 
different.  As  it  is,  I've  done  the  best  I  knew.  All 
your  after  life  I  hope  you  will  believe  this:  Just  that  if 
you  missed  anything  to-day  that  would  have  made  it 
easier  for  you  or  more  pleasant,  the  reason  was  because 
of  my  ignorance  of  women  and  the  conventions,  and  lack 
of  time.  I  want  you  to  know  and  to  feel  that  in  my 
heart  those  vows  I  took  were  real.  This  is  undoubtedly 
all  the  marrying  I  will  ever  want  to  do.  I  am  old-fash- 
ioned in  my  ways,  and  deeply  imbued  with  the  spirit 
of  the  woods,  and  that  means  unending  evolution  along 
the  same  lines. 

"To  me  you  are  my  revered  and  beloved  wife,  my 
mate  now;  and  I  am  sure  nothing  will  make  me  feel 
any  different.  This  is  the  day  of  my  marriage  to  the 
only  woman  I  ever  have  thought  of  wedding,  and  to 
me  it  is  joy  unspeakable.  With  other  men  such  a  day 
ends  differently  from  the  close  of  this  with  me.  Because 
I  have  done  and  will  continue  to  do  the  level  best  I  know 
for  you,  this  oration  is  the  prologue  to  asking  you  for 
one  gift  to  me  from  you,  a  wedding  gift.  I  don't  want 
it  unless  you  can  bestow  it  ungrudgingly,  and  truly  want 
me  to  have  it.  If  you  can,  I  will  have  all  from  this  day 
I  hope  for  at  the  hands  of  fate.  May  I  have  the  gift 
I  ask  of  you,  Ruth?" 

She  lifted  startled  eyes  to  his  face. 

"Tell  me  what  it  is?"  she  breathed. 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    261 

"It  may  seem  much  to  you,"  said  the  Harvester; 
"to  me  it  appears  only  a  gracious  act,  from  a  wonderful 
woman,  if  you  will  give  me  freely,  one  real  kiss.  I've 
never  had  one,  save  from  a  Dream  Girl  Ruth,  and  you 
will  have  to  make  yours  pretty  good  if  it  is  anything 
like  hers.  You  are  woman  enough  to  know  that  most 
men  crush  their  brides  in  their  arms  and  take  a  thousand. 
I'll  put  my  hands  behind  me  and  never  move  a  muscle, 
and  I  won't  ask  for  more,  if  you  will  crown  my  wedding 
day  with  only  one  touch  of  your  lips.  Will  you  kiss 
me  just  once,  Ruth?' 

The  Girl  lifted  a  piteous  face  down  which  big  tears 
suddenly  rolled. 

"Oh  Man,  you  shame  me!"  she  cried.  "What 
kind  of  a  heart  have  I  that  it  fails  to  respond  to  such 
a  plea?  Have  I  been  overworked  and  starved  so  long 
there  is  no  feeling  in  me?  I  don't  understand  why 
I  don't  take  you  in  my  arms  and  kiss  you  a  hundred 
times,  but  you  see  I  don't.  It  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  ever 
could." 

"Never  mind,"  said  the  Harvester  gently.  "It  was 
only  a  fancy  of  mine,  bred  from  my  dream  and  unrea- 
sonable, perhaps.  I  am  sorry  I  mentioned  it.  The  sun  is 
on  the  stoop  now;  I  want  you  to  enter  your  home  in 
its  light.     Come!" 

He  half  lifted  her  from  the  bench.  "I  am  going  to 
help  you  up  the  drive  as  I  used  to  assist  mother,"  he 
said,  fighting  to  keep  his  voice  natural.  "Clasp  your 
hands  before  you  and  draw  your  elbows  to  your  sides. 


262  THE  HARVESTER 

Now  let  me  take  one  in  each  palm,  and  you  will  scoot 
up  this  drive  as  if  you  were  on  wheels." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  'scoot',"  she  said  unsteadily. 
"I  must  go  slowly  and  not  miss  anything." 

"On  the  contrary,  you  don't  want  to  do  any  such 
thing you  should  leave  most  of  it  for  to-morrow. " 

"I  had  forgotten  there  would  be  any  to-morrow.  It 
seems  as  if  the  day  would  end  it  and  set  me  adrift 
again." 

"You  are  going  to  awake  in  the  gold  room  with  the 
sun  shining  on  your  face  in  the  morning,  and  it's  going 
to  keep  on  all  your  life.  Now  if  you've  got  a  smile  in 
your  anatomy,  bring  it  to  the  surface,  for  just  beyond 
this  tree  lies  happiness  for  you." 

His  voice  was  clear  and  steady  now,  his  confidence 
something  contagious.  There  was  a  lovely  smile  on  her 
face  as  she  looked  at  him,  and  stepped  into  the  line  of 
light  crossing  the  driveway;  and  then  she  stopped  and 
cried,  "Oh  lovely!  Lovely!  Lovely!"  over  and  over. 
Then  maybe  the  Harvester  was  not  glad  he  had  planned, 
worked  unceasingly,  and  builded  as  well  as  he  knew. 

The  cabin  of  large,  peeled,  golden  oak  logs,  oiled  to 
preserve  them,  nestled  like  a  big  mushroom  on  the  side 
of  the  hill.  Above  and  behind  the  building  the  trees 
arose  in  a  green  setting.  The  roof  was  stained  to  their 
shades.  The  wide  veranda  was  enclosed  in  screening, 
over  which  wonderful  vines  climbed  in  places,  and  round 
it  grew  ferns  and  deep-wood  plants.  Inside  hung  big 
baskets  of  wild  growth;  there  was  a  wide  swinging  seat, 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    263 

with  a  back  rest,  supported  by  heavy  chains.  There 
were  chairs  and  a  table  of  bent  saplings  and  hickory 
withes.  Two  full  stories  the  building  arose,  and  the 
western  sun  warmed  it  almost  to  orange-yellow,  while 
the  graceful  vines  crept  toward  the  roof. 

The  Girl  looked  at  the  rapidly  rising  hedge  on  each 
side  of  her,  at  the  white  floor  of  the  drive,  and  long  and 
long  at  the  cabin. 

"You  did  all  this  since  February ?"     she  asked. 

"Even  to  transforming  the  landscape,"  answered  the 
Harvester. 

"Oh  I  wish  it  was  not  coming  night!"  she  cried.  "I 
don't  want  the  dark  to  come,  until  you  have  told  me  the 
name  of  every  tree  and  shrub  of  that  wonderful  hedge, 
and  every  plant  and  vine  of  the  veranda;  and  oh  I 
want  to  follow  up  the  driveway  and  see  that  beautiful 
little  creek  —  listen  to  it  chuckle  and  laugh!  Is  it 
always  glad  like 'that?  See  the  ferns  and  things  that 
grow  on  the  other  side  of  it!  Why  there  are  big  beds  of 
them.  And  lilies  of  the  valley  by  the  acre!  What  is 
that  yellow  around  the  corner?" 

"Never  mind  that  now,"  said  the  Harvester,  guiding 
her  up  the  steps,  along  the  gravelled  walk  to  the  screen 
that  he  opened,  and  over  a  flood  of  gold  light  she  crossed 
the  veranda,  and  entered  the  door. 

"Now  here  it  appears  bare,"  said  the  Harvester, 
"because  I  didn't  know  what  should  go  on  the  walls 
or  what  rugs  to  get  or  about  the  windows.  The  table, 
chairs,  and  couch  I  made  myself  with  some  help  from  a 


264  THE  HARVESTER 

carpenter.  They  are  solid  black  walnut  and  will  age 
finely." 

"They  are  beautiful,"  said  the  Girl,  softly  touching 
the  shining  table  top  with  her  fingers.  "Please  put 
the  necklace  on  me  now,  I  have  to  use  my  eyes  and  hands 
for  other  things. " 

She  held  out  the  box  and  the  Harvester  lifted  the 
pendant  and  clasped  the  chain  around  her  neck.  She 
glanced  at  the  lustrous  pearls  and  then  the  fingers  of 
one  hand  softly  closed  over  them.  She  went  through 
the  long,  wide  living-room,  examining  the  chairs  and 
mantel,  stopping  to  touch  and  exclaim  over  its  array 
of  half-finished  candlesticks.  At  the  door  of  his  room 
she  paused.     "And  this?"     she  questioned. 

"Mine,"  said  the  Harvester,  turning  the  knob.  "I'll 
give  you  one  peep  to  satisfy  your  curiosity,  and  show 
you  the  location  of  the  bridge  over  which  you  came  to 
me  in  my  dream.  All  the  remainder  is  yours.  I  reserve 
only  this." 

"Will  the  'goblins  git  me'  if  I  come  here?" 

"Not  goblins,  but  a  man  alive;  so  heed  your  warning. 
After  you  have  seen  it,  keep  away. " 

The  floor  was  cement,  three  of  the  walls  heavy  screen- 
ing with  mosquito  wire  inside,  the  roof  slab  shingled. 
On  the  inner  wall  was  a  bookcase,  below  it  a  desk,  at 
one  side  a  gun  cabinet,  at  the  other  a  bath  in  a  small 
alcove  beside  a  closet.  The  room  contained  two  chairs 
like  those  of  the  veranda,  and  the  bed  was  a  low  oak 
couch  covered  with  a  thick  mattress  of  hemlock  twigs, 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    265 

topped  with  sweet  fern,  on  which  the  sun  shone  all  day. 
On  a  chair  at  the  foot  were  spread  some  white  sheets, 
a  blanket,  and  an  oilcloth.  The  sun  beat  in,  the  wind 
drifted  through,  and  one  lying  on  the  couch  could  see 
down  the  bright  hill,  and  sweep  the  lake  to  the  opposite 
bank  without  lifting  the  head.  The  Harvester  drew  the 
Girl  to  the  bedside. 

"Now  straight  in  a  line  from  here,"  he  said,  "across 
the  lake  to  that  big,  scraggy  oak,  every  clear  night  the 
moon  builds  a  bridge  of  molten  gold,  and  once  you  walked 
it,  my  girl,  and  came  straight  to  me,  alone  and  unafraid; 
and  you  were  gracious  and  lovely  beyond  anything  a 
man  ever  dreamed  of  before.  I'll  have  that  to  think  of 
to-night.  Now  come  see  the  dining-room,  kitchen,  and 
hand-made  sunshine." 

He  led  her  into  what  had  been  the  front  room  of  the 
old  cabin,  now  a  large,  long  dining-room  having  on  each 
side  wide  windows  with  deep  seats.  The  fireplace 
backwall  was  against  that  of  the  living-room,  but  here 
the  mantel  was  bare.  All  the  wood-work,  chairs,  the 
dining  table,  cupboards,  and  carving  table  were  golden 
oak.  Only  a  few  rugs  and  furnishings  and  a  woman's 
touch  were  required  to  make  it  an  unusual  and  beautiful 
room.  The  kitchen  was  shining  with  a  white  hard-wood 
floor,  white  wood-work,  and  pale  green  walls.  It  was  a 
light,  airy,  sanitary  place,  supplied  with  a  pump,  sink, 
hot  and  cold  water  faucets,  refrigerator,  and  every 
modern  convenience  possible  to  the  country. 

Then   the  Harvester  almost  carried  the  Girl  up  the 


266  THE  HARVESTER 

stairs  and  showed  her  three  large  sleeping  rooms,  empty 
and  bare  save  for  some  packing  cases. 

"I  didn't  know  about  these,  so  I  didn't  do  anything. 
When  you  find  time  to  plan,  tell  me  what  you  want,  and 
I'll  make  or  buy  it.  They  are  good-sized,  cool  rooms. 
They  all  have  closets  and  pipes  from  the  furnace,  so  they 
will  be  comfortable  in  winter.  Now  there  is  your  place 
remaining.  I'll  leave  you  while  I  stable  Betsy  and  feed 
the  stock." 

He  guided  her  to  the  door  opening  from  the  living- 
room  to  the  east. 

"This  is  the  sunshine  spot,"  he  said.  "It  is  bathed 
in  morning  light,  and  sheltered  by  afternoon  shade. 
Singing  Water  is  across  the  drive  there  to  talk  to  you 
always.  It  comes  pelting  down  so  fast  it  never  freezes, 
so  it  makes  music  all  winter,  and  the  birds  are  so  numerous 
you'll  have  to  go  to  bed  early  for  they'll  wake  you  by 
dawn.  I  noticed  this  room  was  going  to  be  full  of  sun- 
shine when  I  built  it,  and  I  craved  only  brightness  for 
you,  so  I  coaxed  all  of  it  to  stay  that  I  could.  Every 
stroke  is  the  work  of  my  hands,  and  all  of  the  furniture. 
I  hope  you  will  like  it.  This  is  the  room  of  which  I've 
been  telling  you,  Ruth.  Go  in  and  take  possession, 
and  I'll  entreat  God  and  all  His  ministering  angels  to 
send  you  sunshine  and  joy." 

He  opened  the  door,  guided  her  inside,  closed  it,  and 
went  swiftly  to  his  work. 

The  Girl  stood  and  looked  around  her  with  amazed 
eves.     The  floor  was  pale  yellow  wood,   polished  until 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    267 

it  shone  like  a  table  top.  The  casings,  table,  chairs, 
dressing  table,  chest  of  drawers,  and  bed  were  solid 
curly  maple.  The  doors  were  big  polished  slabs  of  it, 
each  containing  enough  material  to  veneer  all  the  furni- 
ture in  the  room.  The  walls  were  of  plaster,  tinted 
yellow,  and  the  windows  with  yellow  shades  were  cur- 
tained in  dainty  white.  She  could  hear  the  Harvester 
carrying  the  load  from  the  wagon  to  the  front  porch,  the 
clamour  of  the  barn  yard;  and  as  she  went  to  the  north 
window  to  see  the  view,  a  shining  peacock  strutted  down 
the  walk  and  went  to  the  Harvester's  hand  for  grain, 
while  scores  of  snow-white  doves  circled  over  his  head. 
She  stepped  on  deep  rugs  of  yellow  goat  skins,  and, 
glancing  at  the  windows  on  either  side,  she  opened  the 
door. 

Outside  it  lay  a  porch  with  a  railing,  but  no  roof. 
On  each  post  stood  a  box  filled  with  yellow  wood-flowers 
and  trailing  vines  of  pale  green.  A  big  tree  rising  through 
one  corner  of  the  floor  supplied  the  cover.  A  gate 
opened  to  a  walk  leading  to  the  driveway,  and  on  either 
side  lay  a  patch  of  sod,  outlined  by  a  deep  hedge  of 
bright  gold.  In  it  saffron,  cone-flowers,  black-eyed 
Susans,  golden-rod,  wild  sunflowers,  and  jewel  flower 
grew,  and  some  of  it,  enough  to  form  a  yellow  line,  was 
already  in  bloom.  Around  the  porch  and  down  the 
walk  were  beds  of  yellow  violets,  pixie  moss,  and  every 
tiny  gold  flower  of  the  woods.  The  Girl  leaned  against 
the  tree  and  looked  around  her  and  then  staggered 
inside  and  dropped  on  the  couch. 


268  THE  HARVESTER 

"What  planning!  What  work!"  she  sobbed.  "What 
taste!  Why  he's  a  poet!  What  wonderful  beauty! 
He's  an  artist  with  earth  for  his  canvas,  and  growing 
things  for  colours." 

She  lay  there  staring  at  the  walls,  the  beautiful  wood- 
work and  furniture,  the  dressing  table  with  its  array  of 
toilet  articles,  a  low  chair  before  it,  and  the  thick  rug 
for  her  feet.  Over  and  over  she  looked  at  everything, 
and  then  closed  her  eyes  and  lay  quietly,  too  weary  and 
overwhelmed  to  think.  By  and  by  came  tapping  at 
the  door,  and  she  sprang  up  and  crossing  to  the 
dressing  table  straightened  her  hair  and  composed 
her  face. 

"Ajax  demands  to  see  you,"  cried  a  gay  voice. 

The  Girl  stepped  outside. 

"Don't  be  frightened  if  he  screams  at  you,"  warned 
the  Harvester  as  she  passed  him.  "He  detests  a  stranger, 
and  he  always  cries  and  sulks." 

It  was  a  question  what  was  in  the  head  of  the  bird  as 
he  saw  the  strange  looking  creature  invading  his  domain, 
and  he  did  scream,  a  wild,  high,  strident  wail  that  de- 
lighted the  Harvester  inexpressibly,  because  it  sent  the 
Girl  headlong  into  his  arms. 

"Oh,  good  gracious!"  she  cried.  "Has  such  a 
beautiful  bird  got  a  noise  in  it  like  that?  Why 
I've  fed  them  in  parks  and  I  never  heard  one  explode 
before." 

Then  how  the  Harvester  laughed. 

"But  you  see  you  are  in  the  woods  now,  and  this  is 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    269 

not  a  park  bird.  It  will  be  the  test  of  your  power  to  see 
how  soon  you  can  coax  him  to  your  hand." 

"How  do  I  work  to  win  him?" 

"I  am  afraid  I  can't  tell  you  that,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"I  had  to  invent  a  plan  for  myself.  It  required  a  long 
time  and  much  petting,  and  my  methods  might  not 
avail  for  you.  It  will  interest  you  to  study  that  out. 
But  the  member  of  the  family  it  is  positively  essential 
that  you  win  to  a  life  and  death  allegiance  is  Belshazzar. 
If  you  can  make  him  love  you,  he  will  protect  you  at 
every  turn.  He  will  go  before  you  into  the  forest  and 
all  the  crawling,  creeping  things  will  get  out  of  his  way. 
He  will  nose  around  the  flowers  you  want  to  gather,  and 
if  he  growls  and  the  hair  on  the  back  of  his  neck  rises, 
never  forget  that  you  must  heed  that  warning.  A  few 
times  I  have  not  stopped  for  it,  and  I  always  have  been 
sorry.  So  far  as  anything  animate  or  uncertain  footing 
is  concerned,  you  are  always  perfectly  safe  if  you  obey 
him.  About  touching  plants  and  flowers,  you  must 
confine  yourself  to  those  you  are  certain  you  know, 
until  I  can  teach  you.  There  are  gorgeous  and  wonder- 
fully attractive  things  here,  but  some  of  them  are  rank 
poison.  You  won't  handle  plants  you  don't  know, 
until  you  learn,  Ruth?" 

"I  will  not,"  she  promised  instantly. 

She  went  to  the  seat  under  the  porch  tree  and  leaning 
against  the  trunk  she  studied  the  hill,  and  the  rippling 
course  of  Singing  Water  where  it  turned  and  curved 
before    the    cabin,    and    started    across    the    vivid    little 


270  THE  HARVESTER 

marsh  toward  the  lake.  Then  she  looked  at  the  Harvester. 
He  seated  himself  on  the  low  railing  and  smiled  at 
her. 

"You  are  very  tired?"     he  asked. 

"No,"  she  said.  "You  are  right  about  the  air  being 
better  up  here.     It  is  stimulating  instead  of  depressing." 

"So  far  as  pure  air,  location,  and  water  are  concerned," 
said  the  Harvester,  "I  consider  this  place  ideal.  The 
lake  is  large  enough  to  cool  the  air  and  raise  sufficient 
moisture  to  dampen  it,  and  too  small  to  make  it  really 
cold  and  disagreeable.  The  slope  of  the  hill  gives  perfect 
drainage.  The  heaviest  rains  do  not  wet  the  earth  for 
more  than  three  hours.  North,  south,  and  west  breezes 
sweep  the  cool  air  from  the  water  to  the  cabin  in  summer. 
The  same  suns  warm  us  here  on  the  winter  hillside. 
My  violets,  spring  beauties,  anemones,  and  dutchman's 
breeches  here  are  always  two  weeks  ahead  of  those  in 
the  woods.  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  not  liking  the  loca- 
tion or  the  air.  As  for  the  cabin,  if  you  don't  care  for 
that,  it's  very  simple.  I'll  transform  it  into  a  labora- 
tory and  dry-house,  and  build  you  whatever  you  want, 
within  my  means,  over  there  on  the  hill  just  across 
Singing  Water  and  facing  the  valley  toward  Onabasha. 
That's  a  perfect  location.  The  thing  that  worries  me 
is  what  you  are  going  to  do  for  company,  especially  while 
I  am  away." 

"Don't  trouble  yourself  about  anything,"  she  said. 
"Just  say  in  your  heart,  'she  is  going  to  be  stronger  than 
she  ever  has  been  in  her  life  in  this  lovely  place,  and  she 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    271 

has  more  right  now  than  she  ever  had  or  hoped  to  have.' 
For  one  thing,  I  am  going  to  study  your  books.  I  never 
have  had  time  before.  While  we  sewed  or  embroidered, 
mother  talked  by  the  hour  of  the  great  writers  of  the 
world,  told  me  what  they  wrote,  and  how  they  expressed 
themselves,  but  I  got  to  read  very  little  for  myself. " 

"Books  are  my  company,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"Do  your  friends  come  often?" 

"Almost  never!  Doc  and  his  wife  come  most,  and 
if  you  look  out  some  day  and  see  a  white-haired,  bent 
old  woman,  with  a  face  as  sweet  as  dawn,  coming  up  the 
bank  of  Singing  Water,  that  will  be  my  mother's  friend, 
Granny  Moreland,  who  joins  us  on  the  north  over  there. 
She  is  frank  and  brusque,  so  she  says  what  she  thinks 
with  unmistakable  distinctness,  but  her  heart  is  big  and 
tender  and  her  philosophy  keeps  her  sweet  and  kindly 
despite  the  ache  of  rheumatism  and  the  weight  of  sev- 
enty years." 

"I'd  love  to  have  her  come,"  said  the  Girl.  "Is  that 
all?" 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

"Your  favourite  word,"  laughed  the  Harvester.  "The 
reason  lies  with  me,  or  rather  with  my  mother.  Some 
day  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story,  and  the  cause.  I 
think  now  I  can  encompass  it  in  this.  The  place  is  an 
experiment.  When  medicinal  herbs,  roots,  and  barks 
became  so  scarce  that  some  of  the  most  important  were 
almost  extinct,   it  occurred   to  me   that  it  would  be  a 


272  THE  HARVESTER 

good  idea  to  stop  travelling  miles  and  poaching  on  the 
woods  of  other  people,  and  turn  our  land  into  an  herb 
garden.  For  four  years  before  mother  went,  and  six 
since,  I've  worked  with  all  my  might,  and  results  are 
beginning  to  take  shape.  While  I've  been  at  it,  of  course, 
my  neighbours  had  an  inkling  of  what  was  going  on, 
and  I've  been  called  a  fool,  lazy,  and  a  fanatic,  because 
I  did  not  fell  the  trees  and  plow  for  corn.  You  readily 
can  see  I'm  a  little  short  of  corn  ground  out  there," 
he  waved  toward  the  marsh  and  lake,  "and  up  there," 
he  indicated  the  steep  hill  and  wood.  "But  somewhere 
on  this  land  I've  been  able  to  find  muck  for  mallows, 
water  for  flags  and  willows,  shade  for  ferns,  lilies,  and  gin- 
seng, rocky,  sunny  spaces  for  mullein,  and  open,  fertile 

beds  for  Bouncing  Bet just  for  examples.     God  never 

evolved  a  place  better  suited  for  an  herb  farm;  from 
woods  to  water  and  all  that  goes  between,  it  is  perfect." 

"And  indescribably  lovely,"  added  the  Girl. 

"Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  in 
the  days  when  I  didn't  know  how  it  was  coming  out, 
I  was  sensitive  about  it;  so  I  kept  quiet  and  worked, 
and  allowed  the  other  fellow  to  do  the  talking.  After 
a  while  the  ginseng  bed  grew  a  treasure  worth  guarding, 
and  I  didn't  care  for  any  one  to  know  how  much  I  had 
or  where  it  was,  as  a  matter  of  precaution.  Ginseng 
and  money  are  synonymous,  and  I  was  forced  to  be  away 
some  of  the  time." 

"Would  any  one  take  it?" 

"Certainly!"  said  the  Harvester.     "If  they  knew  it 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    273 

was  there,  and  what  it  is  worth.  Then,  as  I've  told  you, 
much  of  the  stuff  here  must  not  be  handled  except 
by  experts,  and  I  didn't  want  people  coming  in  my 
absence  and  taking  risks.  The  remainder  of  my  reason 
for  living  so  alone  is  cowardice,  pure  and  simple." 

"Cowardice?     You!     Oh  no!" 

"Thank  you!"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  it  is! 
Some  day  I'll  tell  you  of  a  very  solemn  oath  I've  had  to 
keep.  It  hasn't  been  easy.  You  wouldn't  understand, 
at  least  not  now.  If  the  day  ever  comes  when  I  think 
you  will,  I'll  tell  you.  Just  now  I  can  express  it  by 
that  one  word.  I  didn't  dare  fail  or  I  felt  I  would  be 
lost  as  my  father  was  before  me.  So  I  remained  away 
from  the  city  and  its  temptations  and  men  of  my  age, 
and  worked  in  the  woods  until  I  was  tired  enough  to 
drop,  read  books  that  helped,  tinkered  with  the  carving, 
and  sometimes  I  had  an  idea,  and  I  went  into  that  little 
building  behind  the  dry-house,  took  out  my  different 
herbs,  and  tried  my  hand  at  compounding  a  new  cure 
for  some  of  the  pains  of  humanity.  It  isn't  bad  work, 
Ruth.  It  keeps  a  fellow  at  a  fairly  decent  level,  and  some 
good  may  come  of  it.  Carey  is  trying  several  formulae 
for  me,  and  if  they  work  I'll  carry  them  higher.  If 
you  want  money,  Girl,  I  know  how  to  get  it  for  you. " 

"Don't  you  want  it?" 

"Not  one  cent  more  than  I've  got,"  said  the  Harvester 
emphatically.  "When  any  man  accumulates  more  than 
he  can  earn  with  his  own  hands,  he  begins  to  enrich 
himself   at   the   expense   of   the   youth,    the   sweat,    the 


274  THE  HARVESTER 

blood,  the  joy  of  his  fellow  men.  I  can  go  to  the  city, 
take  a  look,  and  see  what  money  does,  as  a  rule,  and 
it's  another  thing  I'm  afraid  of.  You  will  find  me  a 
dreadful  coward  on  those  two  points.  I  don't  want 
to  know  society  and  its  ways.  I  see  what  it  does  to 
other  men;  it  would  be  presumption  to  reckon  myself 
stronger.  So  I  live  alone.  As  for  money,  I've  watched 
the  cross  cuts  and  the  quick  and  easy  ways  to  accumu- 
late it;  but  I've  had  something  in  me  that  held  me  to 
the  slow,  sure,  clean  work  of  my  own  hands,  and  it's 
yielded  me  enough  for  one,  for  two  even,  in  a  reasonable 
degree.  So  I've  worked,  read,  compounded,  and  carved. 
If  I  couldn't  wear  myself  down  enough  to  sleep  by  aoiy 
other  method,  I  went  into  the  lake,  and  swam  across  and 
back;  and  that  is  guaranteed  to  put  any  man  to  rest, 
clean  and  unashamed." 

"Six  years,"  said  the  Girl  softly,  as  she  studied  him. 
"I  think  it  has  set  a  mark  on  you.  I  believe  I  can  trace 
it.  Your  forehead,  brow,  and  eyes  bear  the  lines  and 
the  appearance  of  all  experience,  all  comprehension, 
but  your  lips  are  those  of  a  very  young  lad.  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  I  had  that  kiss  ready  for  you,  and  I  really 
believe  I  can  make  it  worth  while." 

"Oh  good  Lord!"  cried  the  Harvester,  turning  a 
backward  somersault  over  the  railing  and  starting  in 
big  bounds  up  the  drive  toward  the  stable.  He  passed 
around  it  and  into  the  woods  at  a  rush  and  a  few  seconds 
later  from  somewhere  on  the  top  of  the  hill  his  strong, 
deep  voice  swept  down,  "Glory,  glory  hallelujah!" 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    275 

He  sang  it  through  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  that  ma- 
jestic old  hymn,  but  there  was  no  music  at  all,  it  was 
simply  a  roar.  By  and  by  he  came  soberly  to  the  barn 
and  paused  to  stroke  Betsy's  nose. 

"  Stop  chewing  grass  and  listen  to  me, "  he  said.  "  She's 
here,  Betsy!  She's  in  our  cabin.  She's  going  to  remain, 
you  can  stake  your  oats  on  that.  She's  going  to  be  the 
loveliest  and  sweetest  girl  in  all  the  world,  and  because 
you're  a  beast,  I'll  tell  you  something  a  man  never  could 
know.  Down  with  your  ear,  you  critter!  She's  going 
to  kiss  me,  Betsy!  This  very  night,  before  I  lay  me, 
her  lips  meet  mine,  and  maybe  you  think  that  won't 
be  glorious.  I  supposed  it  would  be  a  year,  anyway, 
but  it's  now!  Ain't  you  glad  you  are  an  animal,  Betsy, 
and  can  keep  secrets  for  a  fool  man  that  can't?" 

He  walked  down  the  driveway,  and  before  the  Girl 
had  a  chance  to  speak,  he  said,  "I  wonder  if  I  had  not 
better  carry  those  things  into  your  room,  and  arrange 
your  bed  for  you." 

"I  can,"  she  said. 

"Oh  no!"  exclaimed  the  Harvester.  "You  can't  lift 
the  mattress  and  heavy  covers.  Hold  the  door  and  tell 
me  how. " 

He  laid  a  big  bundle  on  the  floor,  opened  it,  and  took 
out  the  shoes. 

"Your  shoe  box  is  in  the  closet  there. " 

"I  didn't  know  what  that  door  was,  so  I  didn't 
open  it." 

"That  is  a  part  of  my  arrangements  for  you,"  said 


276  THE  HARVESTER 

the  Harvester.  "Here  is  a  closet  with  shelves  for  your 
covers  and  other  things.  They  are  bare  because  I 
didn't  know  just  what  should  be  put  on  them.  This 
is  the  shoe  box  here  in  the  corner;  I'll  put  these  in  it 
now. " 

He  knelt  and  in  a  row  set  the  shoes  in  the  curly  maple 
box  and  closed  it. 

" There  you  are  for  all  kinds  of  places  and  varieties  of 
weather.  This  adjoining  is  your  bathroom.  I  put 
in  towels,  soaps,  brushes,  and  everything  I  could  think 

of,  and  there  is  hot  water  ready  for  you rain  water, 

too." 

The  Girl  followed  and  looked  into  a  shining  little 
bathroom,  with  its  white  porcelain  tub  and  wash  bowl, 
enamelled  wood-work,  dainty  green  walls,  and  white 
curtains  and  towels.  She  could  see  no  accessory  she 
knew  of  that  was  missing,  and  there  were  many  things 
to  which  she  never  had  been  accustomed.  The  Harvester 
had  gone  back  to  the  sunshine  room,  and  was  kneeling 
on  the  floor  beside  the  bundle.  He  began  opening 
boxes  and  handing  her  dresses. 

"There  are  skirt,  coat,  and  waist  hangers  on  the 
hooks,"  he  said.  "I  only  got  a  few  things  to  start  on, 
because  I  didn't  know  what  you  would  like.  Instead 
of  being  so  careful  with  that  dress,  why  don't  you  take 
it  off,  and  put  on  a  common  one?  Then  we  will  have 
something  to  eat,  and  go  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  watch 
the  moon  bridge  the  lake." 

While  she  hung  the  dresses   and  selected  the  one  to 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    277 

wear,  he  placed  the  mattress,  spread  the  padding  and 
sheets,  and  encased  the  pillow.  Then  he  bent  and  pressed 
the  springs  with  his  hands. 

"I  think  you  will  find  that  soft  and  easy  enough  for 
health,"  he  said.  "All  the  personal  belongings  I  had 
that  clerk  put  up  for  you  are  in  that  chest  of  drawers 
there.  I  put  the  little  boxes  in  the  top  and  went  down. 
You  can  empty  and  arrange  them  to-morrow.  Just 
hunt  out  what  you  will  need  now.  There  should  be 
everything  a  girl  uses  there  somewhere.  I  told  them  to 
be  very  careful  about  that.  If  the  things  are  not  right 
or  not  to  your  taste,  you  can  take  them  back  as  soon  as 
you  are  rested,  and  they  will  exchange  them  for  you. 
If  there  is  anything  I  have  missed  that  you  can  think 
of  that  you  need  to-night,  tell  me  and  I'll  go  and  get  it." 

The  Girl  turned  toward  him. 

"You  couldn't  be  making  sport  of  me,"  she  said, 
"but  Man!  Can't  you  see  that  I  don't  know  what  to 
do  with  half  you  have  here?  I  never  saw  such  things 
closely  before.  I  don't  know  what  they  are  for.  I 
don't  know  how  to  use  them.  My  mother  would  have 
known,  but  I  do  not.  You  overwhelm  me!  Fifty 
times  I've  tried  to  tell  you  that  a  room  of  my  very  own, 
such  a  room  as  this  will  be  when  to-morrow's  sun  comes 
In,  and  these,  and  these,  and  these,"  she  turned  from 
the  chest  of  boxes  to  the  dressing  table,  bed,  closet,  and 
bath,    "all    these    for  me,    and    you    know    absolutely 

nothing  about  me I  get  a  big  lump  in  my  throat, 

and  the  words  that  do  come  all  seem  so  meaningless. 


278  THE  HARVESTER 

I  am  perfectly  ashamed  to  say  them.  Oh  Man,  why  do 
you  do  it?" 

"I  thought  it  was  about  time  to  spring  another  'why' 
on  me,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Thank  God,  I  am  now 
in  a  position  where  I  can  tell  you  'why'!  I  do  it  because 
you  are  the  girl  of  my  dream,  my  mate  by  every  law  of 
Heaven  and  earth.  All  men  build  as  well  as  they  know 
when  the  one  woman  of  the  universe  lays  her  spell  on 

them.     I  did  all  this  for  myself just  as  a  kind  of 

expression  of  what  it  would  be  in  my  heart  to  do  if  I 
could  do  what  I'd  like.  Put  on  the  easiest  dress  you  can 
find  and  I  will  go  and  set  out  something  to  eat. " 

She  stood  with  arms  high  piled  with  the  prettiest 
dresses  that  could  be  selected  hurriedly,  the  tears  running 
down  her  white  cheeks  and  smiled  through  them  at  him. 

"There  wouldn't  be  any  of  that  liquid  amber  would 
there?"  she  asked. 

"Quarts!"  cried    the    Harvester.     "I'll    bring    some. 

.  .  .  Does  it  really  hit  the  spot,  Ruth?"  he 
questioned  as  he  handed  her  the  glass. 

She  heaped  the  dresses  on  the  bed  and  took  it. 

"It  really  does.     I  am  afraid  I  am  using  too  much." 

"I  don't  think  it  possibly  can  hurt  you.     To-morrow 
we  will   ask  Doc.     How  soon   will   you   be   ready  for 
lunch?" 

"I  don't  want  a  bite." 

"You  will  when  you  see  and  smell  it,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "I  am  an  expert  cook.  It's  my  chiefest  accom- 
plishment.     You   should   taste   the   dishes   I  improvise. 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    279 

But  there  won't  be  much  to-night,  because  I  want  you 
to  see  the  moon  rise  over  the  lake." 

He  went  away  and  the  Girl  removed  her  dress  and 
spread  it  on  the  couch.  Then  she  bathed  her  face  and 
hands.  When  she  saw  the  discoloured  cloth,  it  proved 
that  she  had  been  painted,  and  made  her  very  indignant. 
Yet  she  could  not  be  altogether  angry,  for  that  flush 
of  colour  had  saved  the  Harvester  from  being  pitied  by 
his  friend.  She  stood  a  long  time  before  the  mirror, 
staring  at  her  gaunt,  colourless  face;  then  she  went 
to  the  dressing  table  and  committed  a  crime.  She 
found  a  box  of  cream  and  rubbed  it  on  for  a  foundation. 
Then  she  opened  some  pink  powder,  and  carefully  dusted 
her  cheeks. 

"I  am  utterly  ashamed,"  she  said  to  the  image  in  the 

mirror,  "but  he  has  done  so  much  for  me,  he  is  so,  so 

I  don't  know  a  word  big  enough that  I  can't  bear  him 

to  see  how  ghastly  I  am,  how  little  worth  it.  Perhaps 
the  food,  better  air,  and  outdoor  exercise  will  give  me 
strength  and  colour  soon.  Until  it  does  I'm  afraid  I'm 
going  to  help  out  all  I  can  with  this.  It  is  wonderful 
how  it  changes  one.  I  really  appear  like  a  girl  instead 
of  a  bony  old  woman. " 

Then  she  looked  over  the  dresses,  selected  a  pretty 
white  princesse,  slipped  it  on,  and  went  to  the  kitchen. 
But  the  Harvester  would  not  have  her  there.  He  seated 
her  at  the  dining  table,  beside  the  window  overlooking 
the  lake,  lighted  a  pair  of  his  home-made  candles  in  his 
finest  sticks,  and  placed  before  her  bread,  butter,  cold 


280  THE  HARVESTER 

meat,  milk,  and  fruit,  and  together  they  ate  their  first 
meal  in  their  home. 

"If  I  had  known,"  said  the  Harvester,  "Granny 
Moreland  is  a  famous  cook.  She  is  a  Southern  woman, 
and  she  can  fry  chicken  and  make  some  especial  dishes 
to  surpass  any  one  I  ever  knew.  She  would  have  been 
so  pleased  to  come  over  and  get  us  an  all-right  supper." 

"I'd  much  rather  have  this,  and  be  by  ourselves,"  said 
the  Girl. 

"Well,  you  can  bank  on  it,  I  would,"  agreed  the 
Harvester.  "For  instance,  if  any  one  were  here,  I 
might  feel  restrained  about  telling  you  that  you  are 
exactly  the  beautiful,  flushed  Dream  Girl  I  have  adored 
for  months,  and  your  dress  most  becoming.  You  are 
a  picture  to  blind  the  eyes  of  a  lonely  bachelor,  Ruth. " 

"Oh  why  did  you  say  that?"  wailed  the  Girl.     "Now 

I've  got  to  feel  like  a  sneak  or  tell  you and  I  didn't 

want  you  to  know." 

"Don't  you  ever  tell  me  or  any  one  else  anything  you 
don't  want  to,"  said  the  Harvester  roundly.  "It's  no- 
body's business!" 

"But  I  must!  I  can't  begin  with  deception.  I  was 
fool  enough  to  think  you  wouldn't  notice.  Man,  they 
painted  me!  I  didn't  know  they  were  doing  it,  but  when 
it  all  washed  off,  I  looked  so  ghastly  I  almost  frightened 
myself.  I  hunted  through  the  boxes  they  put  up  for 
you  and  found  some  pink  powder " 

"But  don't  all  the  daintiest  women  powder  these 
days,  and  consider  it  indispensable?     The  clerk  said  so, 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    281 

and  I've  noticed  it  mentioned  in  the  papers.     I  bought 
it  for  you  to  use." 

"Yes,  just  powder,  but  Man,  I  put  on  a  lot  of  cold 
cream  first  to  stick  the  powder  good  and  thick.  Oh 
I  wish  I  hadn't!" 

"Well  since  you've  told  it,  is  your  conscience  per- 
fectly at  ease?  No  you  don't!  You  sit  where  you  are! 
You  are  lovely,  and  if  you  don't  use  enough  powder  to 
cover  the  paleness,  until  your  colour  returns,  I'll  hold 
you  and  put  it  on.  I  know  you  feel  better  when  you 
appear  so  that  every  one  must  admire  you." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  a  fraud!" 

"You  are  no  such  thing!"  cried  the  Harvester  hotly. 
"There  hasn't  a  woman  in  ten  thousand  got  any  such 
rope  of  hair.  I  have  been  seeing  the  papers  on  the  hair 
question,  too.  No  one  will  believe  it's  real.  If  they 
think  your  hair  is  false,  when  it  is  natural,  they  won't 
be  any  more  fooled  when  they  think  your  colour  is  real, 
and  it  isn't.  Very  soon  it  will  be  and  no  one  need  ever 
know  the  difference.  You- go  on  and  fix  up  your  level 
best.  To  see  yourself  appearing  well  will  make  you 
ambitious  to  become  so  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Harvester-man,"  said  the  Girl,  gazing  at  him  with 
wet  luminous  eyes,  "for  the  sake  of  other  women,  I 
could  wish  that  all  men  had  an  oath  to  keep,  and  had 
been  reared  in  the  woods." 

"Here  is  the  place  we  adjourn  to  the  moon,"  cried 
the  Harvester.  "I  don't  know  of  anything  that  can  cure 
a  sudden  accession  of  swell  head  like  gazing  at  the  heavens. 


282  THE  HARVESTER 

One  finds  his  place  among  the  atoms  naturally  and 
instantaneously  with  the  eyes  on  the  night  sky.  Should 
you  have  a  wrap?  You  should!  The  mists  from  the 
lake  are  cool.  I  don't  believe  there  is  one  among  my 
orders.  I  forgot  that.  But  upstairs  with  mother's 
clothing  there  are  several  shawls  and  shoulder  capes. 
All  of  them  were  washed  and  carefully  packed.  Would 
you  use  one,  Ruth?" 

"Why  not  give  it  to  me.  Wouldn't  she  like  me  to 
wear  her  things  better  than  to  have  them  lying  in  moth 
balls?" 

The  Harvester  looked  at  her  and  shook  his  head, 
marvelling. 

"I  can't  tell  how  pleased  she  would  be,"  he  said. 

"Where  are  her  belongings?"  asked  the  Girl.  "I 
could  use  them  to  help  furnish  the  house,  and  it  wouldn't 
appear  so  strange  to  you." 

The  Harvester  liked  that. 

"All  the  washed  things  are  in  those  boxes  upstairs; 
also  some  fine  skins  I've  saved  on  the  chance  of  wanting 
them.  Her  dishes  are  in  the  bottom  of  the  china  closet 
there;  she  was  mighty  proud  of  them.  The  furniture 
and  carpets  were  so  old  and  abused  I  burned  them.  I'll 
go  bring  a  wrap." 

He  took  the  candle  and  climbed  the  stairs,  soon  re- 
turning with  a  little  white  wool  shawl  and  a  big  pink 
coverlet. 

"Got  this  for  her  Christmas  one  time, "  he  said.  " She'd 
never  had  a  white  one  and  she  thought  it  was  pretty." 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    283 

He  folded  it  around  the  Girl's  shoulders  and  picked 
up  the  coverlet. 

"You're  never  going  to  take  that  to  the  woods!"  she 
cried. 

"Why  not?" 

She  took  it  in  her  hands  to  find  a  corner. 

"Just  as  I  thought!  It's  a  genuine  Peter  Hartman! 
It's  one  of  the  things  that  money  can't  buy,  or,  rather, 
one  that  takes  a  mint  of  money  to  own.  They  are 
heirlooms.  They  are  not  manufactured  any  more. 
At  the  art  store  where  I  worked  they'd  give  you  fifty 
dollars  for  that.  It  is  not  faded  or  worn  a  particle. 
It  would  be  lovely  in  my  room;  you  mustn't  take  a 
treasure  like  that  out  of  doors. " 

"Ruth,  are  you  in  earnest?"  demanded  the  Harvester. 
"I  believe  there  are  six  of  them  upstairs." 

" Plutocrat ! "  cried  the  Girl.     "What  colours ? " 

"More  of  this  pinkish  red,  blue,  and  pale  green." 

"Famous!  May  I  have  them  to  help  furnish  with 
to-morrow?" 

"Certainly!  Anything  you  can  find,  any  way  on  earth 
you  want  it,  only  in  my  room.  That  is  taboo,  as  I  told 
you.     What  am  I  going  to  take  to-night?" 

"Isn't  the  rug  you  had  in  the  woods  in  the  wagon  yet? 
Use  that!" 

"Of  course!     The  very  thing!     Bel,  proceed!" 

"Are  you  going  to  leave  the  house  like  this?" 

"Why  not?" 

"Suppose  some  one  breaks  in!" 


284  THE  HARVESTER 

"Nothing  worth  carrying  away,  except  what  you  have 
on.  No  one  to  get  in.  There  is  a  big  swamp  back  of 
our  woods,  marsh  in  front,  we're  up  here  where  we  can 
see  the  drive  and  bridge.  There  is  nothing  possible 
from  any  direction.  Never  locked  the  cabin  in  my  life, 
except  your  room,  and  that  was  because  it  was  sacred, 
not  that  there  was  any  danger.  Clear  the  way,  Bel!" 
"Clear  it  of  what?" 

"Katydids,  hoptoads,  and  other  carnivorous  animals." 

"Now  you  are  making  fun  of  me!     Clear  it  of  what?" 

"A  coon  that  might  go  shuffling  across,  an  opossum, 

or  a  snake  going  to  the  lake.     Now  are  you  frightened 

so  that  you  will  not  go?" 

"No.     The  path  is  broad  and  white  and  surely  you 
and  Bel  can  take  care  of  me." 
"  If  you  will  trust  us  we  can. " 
"Well,  I  am  trusting  you." 

"You   are   indeed,"   said   the  Harvester.     "Now  see 
if  you  think  this  is  pretty." 

He  indicated  the  hill  sloping  toward  the  lake.  The 
path  wound  among  massive  trees,  between  whose  branches 
patches  of  moonlight  filtered.  Around  the  lake  shore 
and  climbing  the  hill  were  thickets  of  bushes.  The 
water  lay  shining  in  the  light,  a  gentle  wind  ruffled  the 
surface  in  undulant  waves,  and  on  the  opposite  bank 
arose  the  line  of  big  trees.  Under  a  giant  oak  widely 
branching,  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  the  Harvester  spread 
the  rug  and  held  one  end  of  it  against  the  tree  trunk  to 
protect  the  Girl's  dress.     Then  he  sat  a  little  distance 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    285 

away  and  began  to  talk.  He  mingled  some  sense  with 
a  quantity  of  nonsense,  and  appreciated  every  hint  of  a 
laugh  he  heard.  The  day  had  been  no  amusing  matter 
for  a  girl  absolutely  alone  among  strange  people  and 
scenes.  Anything  more  foreign  to  her  previous  envi- 
ronment or  expectations  he  could  not  imagine.  So  he 
talked  to  prevent  her  from  thinking,  and  worked  for  a 
laugh  as  he  laboured  for  bread. 

"Now  we  must  go,"  he  said  at  last.  "If  there  is  the 
malaria  I  strongly  suspect  in  your  system,  this  night  air 
is  none  too  good  for  you.  I  only  wanted  you  to  see  the 
lake  the  first  night  in  your  new  home,  and  if  it  won't 
shock  you,  I  brought  you  here  because  this  is  my  holy 
of  holies.     Can  you  guess  why  I  wanted  you  to  come, 

Ruth?" 

"If  I  wasn't  so  stupid  with  alternate  burning  and 
chills,  and  so  deadened  to  every  proper  sensibility,  I 
suppose  I  could,"  she  answered,  "but  I'm  not  brilliant. 
I  don't  know,  unless  it  is  because  you  knew  it  would  be 
the  loveliest  place  I  ever  saw.  Surely  there  is  no  other 
spot  in  the  world  quite  so  beautiful." 

"Then  would  it  seem  strange  to  you,"  asked  the 
Harvester  going  to  the  Girl  and  gently  putting  his  arms 
around  her,  "would  it  seem  strange  to  you,  that  a  woman 
who  once  homed  here  and  thought  it  the  prettiest  place 
on  earth,  chose  to  remain  for  her  eternal  sleep,  rather 
than  to  rest  in  a  distant  city  of  stranger  dead?" 

He  felt  the  Girl  tremble  against  him. 
Where  is  she?" 


U\"I71 


286  THE  HARVESTER 

"Very  close,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Under  this  oak. 
She  used  to  say  that  she  had  a  speaking  acquaintance 
with  every  tree  on  our  land,  and  of  them  all  she  loved 
this  big  one  the  best.  She  liked  to  come  here  in  winter, 
and  feel  the  sting  of  the  wind  sweeping  across  the  lake, 
and  in  summer  this  was  her  place  to  read  and  to  think. 
So  when  she  slept  the  unwaking  sleep,  Ruth,  I  came 
here  and  made  her  bed  with  my  own  hands,  and  then 
carried  her  to  it,  covered  her,  and  she  sleeps  well.  I 
never  have  regretted  her  going.  Life  did  not  bring  her 
joy.  She  was  very  tired.  She  used  to  say  that  after 
her  soul  had  fled,  if  I  would  lay  her  here,  perhaps  the 
big  roots  would  reach  down  and  find  her,  and  from 
her  frail  frame  gather  slight  nourishment  and  then 
her  body  would  live  again  in  talking  leaves  that  would 
shelter  me  in  summer  and  whisper  her  love  in  winter. 
Of  all  Medicine  Woods  this  is  the  dearest  spot  to  me. 
Can  you  love  it  too,  Ruth?" 

"Oh  I  can!"  cried  the  GirJ;  "I  do  now!  Just  to  see 
the  place  and  hear  that  is  enough.  I  wish,  oh  to  my 
soul  I  wish " 

:'You  wish  what?"  whispered  the  Harvester 
gently. 

"I  dare  not!  I  was  wild  to  think  of  it.  I  would  be 
ungrateful  to  ask  it. " 

"You  would  be  ungracious  if  you  didn't  ask  anything 
that  would  give  me  the  joy  of  pleasing  you.  How  long 
is  it  going  to  require  for  you  to  learn,  Ruth,  that  to  make 
up  for  some  of  the  difficulties  life  has  brought  you  would 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE  287 
give  me  more  happiness  than  anything  else  could? 
Tell  me  now." 

"No!" 

He  gathered  her  closer. 

"Ruth,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  be  actively 
unkind  to  me.     What  is  it  you  wish?" 

She  struggled  from  his  arms  and  stood  alone  in  white 
moonlight,  staring  across  the  lake,  along  the  shore,  deep 
into  the  perfumed  forest,  and  then  at  the  mound  she  now 
could  distinguish  under  the  giant  tree.  Suddenly  she 
went  to  him  and  with  both  shaking  hands  gripped  his 


arm, 


"My  mother!"  she  panted.  "Oh  she  was  a  beautiful 
woman,  delicately  reared,  and  her  heart  was  crushed  and 
broken.  By  the  inch  she  went  to  a  dreadful  end  I  could 
not  avert  or  allay,  and  in  poverty  and  grime  I  fought 
for  a  way  to  save  her  body  from  further  horror,  and  it's 
all  so  dreadful  I  thought  all  feeling  in  me  was  dried 
and  still,  but  I  am  not  quite  calloused  yet.  I  suffer 
it  over  with  every  breath.  It  is  never  entirely  out  of 
my  mind.  Oh  Man,  if  only  you  would  lift  her  from  the 
horrible  place  she  lies,  where  briers  run  riot  and  cattle 
trample  and  the  unmerciful  sun  beats!  Oh  if  only  you'd 
lift  her  from  it,  and  bring  her  here!  I  believe  it  would 
take  away  some  of  the  horror,  the  shame,  and  the  heart- 
ache. I  believe  I  could  go  to  sleep  without  hearing  the 
voice  of  her  suffering,  if  I  knew  she  was  lying  on  this  hill, 
under  your  beautiful  tree,  close  the  dear  mother  you 
love.     Oh  Man,  would  you ?" 


288  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  crushed  the  Girl  in  his  arms  and  shud- 
dering sobs  shook  his  big  frame,  and  choked  his  voice. 

"Ruth,  for  God's  sake,  be  quiet!"  he  cried.  "Why  I'd 
be  glad  to!  I'll  go  anywhere  you  tell  me,  and  bring  her, 
and  she  shall  rest  where  the  lake  murmurs,  the  trees 
shelter,  the  winds  sing,  and  earth  knows  the  sun  only 
in  long  rays  of  gold  light. " 

She  stared  at  him  with  strained  face. 

"You you  wouldn't!"  she  breathed. 

"Ruth,  child,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  tell  you  I'd  be 
happy.  Look  at  my  side  of  this!  I'm  in  search  of  bands 
to  bind  you  to  me  and  to  this  place.  Could  you  tell 
me  a  stronger  than  to  have  the  mother  you  idolized 
lie  here  for  her  long  sleep?  Why  Girl,  you  can't  know 
the  deep  and  abiding  joy  it  would  give  me  to  bring 
her.  I'd  feel  I  had  you  almost  secure.  Where  is  she, 
Ruth?" 

"In  that  old  unkept  cemetery  south  of  Onabasha, 
where  it  costs  no  money  to  lay  away  your  loved  ones. " 

"Close  here!  Why  I'll  go  to-morrow!  I  supposed 
she  was  in  the  city. " 

She  straightened  and  drew  away  from  him. 

"How  could  I?  I  had  nothing.  I  could  not  have 
paid  even  her  fare  and  brought  her  here  in  the  cheapest 
box  the  decency  of  man  would  allow  him  to  make  if 
her  doctor  had  not  given  me  the  money  I  owe.  Now 
do  you  understand  why  I  must  earn  and  pay  it  myself? 
Save  for  him,  it  was  charity  or  her  delicate  body  to 
horrors.     Money  never  can  repay  him. " 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    289 

"Ruth,  the  day  you  came  to  Onabasha  was  she  with 
you?" 

"In  the  express  car,"  said  the  Girl. 

"Where  did  you  go  when  you  left  the  train  shed?" 

"Straight  to  the  baggage  room,  where  Uncle  Henry 
was  waiting.  Men  brought  and  put  her  in  his  wagon, 
and  he  drove  with  me  to  the  place  and  other  men  lowered 
her,  and  that  was  all." 

"You  poor  Girl!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "This  time 
to-morrow  night  she  shall  sleep  in  luxury  under  this  oak, 
so  help  me  God!  Ruth,  can  you  spare  me?  May  I 
go  at  once?     I  can't  rest,  myself. " 

"You  will ? "  cried  the  Girl.     "You  will ? " 

She  was  laughing  in  the  moonlight.  "Oh  Man,  I 
can't  ever,  ever  tell  you!" 

"Don't  try,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Call  it  settled. 
I  will  start  early  in  the  morning.  I  know  that  little 
cemetery.  The  man  whose  land  it  is  on  can  point  me 
the  spot.  She  is  probably  the  last  one  laid  there.  Come 
now,  Ruth.  Go  to  the  room  I  made  for  you,  and  sleep 
deeply  and  in  peace.     Will  you  try  to  rest?" 

" Oh  David ! "  she  exulted.  "Only  think !  Here  where 
it's  clean  and  cool;  beside  the  lake,  where  leaves  fall  gently 
and  I  can  come  and  sit  close  to  her  and  bring  flowers;  and 
she  never  will  be  alone,  for  your  dear  mother  is  here.  Oh 
David!" 

"It  is  better.  I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  thinking 
of  it.     Come  now,  let  me  help  you." 

He  half  carried  her  down  the  hill.     Then  he  made  the 


29o  THE  HARVESTER 

cabin  a  glamour  of  light  by  putting  candles  in  the  sticks 
he  had  carved  and  placing  them  everywhere. 

"There  is  a  lighting  plant  in  the  basement,"  he  said, 
"but  I  had  not  expected  to  use  it  until  winter,  and  I 
have  no  acetylene.  Candles  were  our  grandmothers' 
lights  and  they  are  the  best  anyway.  Go  bathe  your 
face,  Ruth,  and  wash  away  all  trace  of  tears.  Put  on 
the  pink  powder,  and  in  a  few  weeks  you  will  have 
colour  to  outdo  the  wildest  rose.  You  must  be  as  gay 
as  you  can  the  remainder  of  this  night. " 

"I  will!"  cried  the  Girl.  "I  will!  Oh  I  didn't  know 
a  thing  on  earth  could  make  me  happy!  I  didn't  know 
I  really  could  be  glad.  Oh  if  the  ice  in  my  heart  would 
melt,  and  the  wall  break  down,  and  the  girlhood  I've 
never  known  would  come  yet!     Oh  David,  if  it  would!" 

"Before  the  Lord  it  shall!"  vowed  the  Harvester. 
"It  shall  come  with  the  fulness  of  joy  right  here  in 
Medicine  Woods.  Think  it!  Believe  it!  Keep  it  be- 
fore you!  Work  for  it!  Happiness  is  worth  while! 
All  of  us  have  a  right  to  it!     It  shall  be  yours  and  soon. " 

"I  will  try!  I  will!"  promised  the  Girl.  "I'll  go 
right  now  and  I'll  put  on  the  blessed  pink  powder  so 
thickly  you'll  never  know  what  is  under  it,  and  soon  it 
won't  be  needed  at  all." 

She  was  laughing  as  she  left  the  room.  The  Harvester 
restlessly  walked  the  floor  a  few  minutes  and  then  sat 
with  a  notebook  and  began  entering  items. 

When  the  Girl  returned,  he  brought  the  pillow  from  her 
bed,  folded  the  coverlet,  and  she  lay  on  them  in  the  big 


WHEN  THE  DREAM  CAME  TRUE    291 

swing.  He  covered  her  with  the  white  shawl,  and  while 
Singing  Water  sang  its  loudest,  katydids  exulted  over 
the  delightful  act  of  their  ancestor,  and  a  million  gauze- 
winged  creatures  of  night  hummed  against  the  screen, 
in  a  voice  soft  and  low  he  told  her  in  a  steady  stream, 
as  he  swayed  her  back  and  forth,  what  each  sound  of  the 
night  was,  and  how  and  why  it  was  made  all  the  way 
from  the  rumbling  buzz  of  the  June  bug  to  the  screech 
of  the  owl  and  the  splash  of  the  bass  in  the  lake.  All 
of  it,  as  it  appealed  to  him,  was  the  story  of  steady  evolu- 
tion, the  natural  processes  of  reproduction,  the  joy  of 
life  and  its  battles,  and  the  conquest  of  the  strong  in 
nature.  At  his  hands  every  sound  was  stripped  of  terror. 
The  leaping  bass  was  exulting  in  life,  the  screeching  owl 
was  telling  its  mate  it  had  found  a  fat  mouse  for  the 
children,  the  nighthawk  was  courting,  the  big  bull 
frogs  booming  around  the  lake  were  serenading  the  moon. 
There  was  not  a  thing  to  fear  or  a  voice  left  with  an  un- 
sympathetic note  in  it.  She  was  half  asleep  when  at  last 
he  helped  her  to  her  room,  set  a  pitcher  of  frosty,  clinking 
drink  on  her  table,  locked  her  door  and  window  screens 
inside,  spread  Belshazzar's  blanket  on  her  porch,  and  set 
his  door  wideopen,thathe  might  hearif  she  called,  and  then 
said  good  night  and  went  back  to  his  memorandum  book. 

"No  bad  beginning,"  he  muttered  softly,  "no  bad 
beginning,  but  I'd  almost  give  my  right  hand  if  she  hadn't 
forgotten " 

In  her  room  the  exhausted  Girl  slipped  the  pins  from 
her  hair  and  sank  on  the  low  chair  before  the  dressing 


292  THE  HARVESTER 

table.  She  picked  up  the  shining,  silver  backed  brush 
and  stared  at  the  monogram,  R.  J.  L.,  entwined  on  it. 

"My  soul!"  she  exclaimed.  "Was  he  so  sure  as  that? 
Was  there  ever  any  other  man  like  him?" 

She  dropped  the  brush  and  with  tired  hands  pushed 
back  the  heavy  braids.  Then  she  arose  and  going  to 
the  chest  of  drawers  began  lifting  lids  to  find  a  night 
robe.  As  she  searched  the  boxes  she  found  every  dainty, 
pretty  undergarment  a  girl  ever  used  and  at  last  the 
robes.  She  shook  out  a  long  white  one,  slipped  into  it, 
and  walked  to  the  bed.  That  stood  as  he  had  arranged 
it,  white,  clean,  and  dainty. 

"Everything  for  me!"  she  said  softly.  "Everything 
for  me!  Shall  there  be  nothing  for  him?  Oh  he  makes 
it  easy,  easy!" 

She  stepped  to  the  closet,  picked  down  a  lavender 
silk  kimona  and  drawing  it  over  her  gown  she  gathered  it 
around  her,  and  opening  the  bathroom  door,  she  stepped 
into  a  little  hall  leading  to  the  dining-room.  As  she 
entered  the  living-room  the  Harvester  bent  over  his  book. 
Her  step  was  very  close  when  he  heard  it  and  turned  his 
head.  In  an  instant  she  touched  his  shoulders.  The 
Harvester  dropped  the  pencil,  and  palm  downward  laid 
his  hands  on  the  table,  his  promise  strong  in  his  heart. 
The  Girl  slid  a  shaking  palm  under  his  chin,  leaned 
his  head  against  her  breast,  and  dropped  a  sweet,  tear-wet 
face  on  his.  With  all  the  strength  of  her  frail  arms  she 
gripped  him  a  second,  and  then  gave  the  kiss,  into  which 
she  tried  to  put  all  she  could  find  no  words  to  express. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
Snowy  Wings 

THE  Harvester  sat  at  the  table  in  deep  thought, 
until  the  lights  in  the  Girl's  room  were  darkened 
and  everything  was  quiet.  Then  he  locked 
the  screens  inside  and  went  into  the  night.  The  moon 
flooded  all  the  hillside,  until  coarse  print  could  have  been 
read  with  keen  eyes  in  its  light.  A  restlessness,  born  of 
exultation  he  could  not  allay  or  control,  was  on  him.  She 
had  not  forgotten!  After  this,  the  dream  would  be 
effaced  by  reality.  It  was  the  beginning.  He  scarcely 
had  dared  hope  for  so  much.  Surely  it  presaged  the  love 
with  which  she  some  day  would  come  to  him  and  crown 
his  life.  He  walked  softly  up  and  down  the  drive,  pass- 
ing her  windows,  unable  to  think  of  sleep.  Over  and  over 
he  dwelt  on  the  incidents  of  the  day,  so  inevitably  he 
came  to  his  promise. 

"Merciful  Heaven!"  he  muttered.  "How  can  such 
things  happen?  The  poor,  overworked,  tired,  suffering 
girl.  It  will  give  her  some  comfort.  She  will  feel  better. 
It  has  to  be  done.  I  believe  I  will  do  the  worst  part  of  it 
while  she  sleeps." 

He  went  to  the  cabin,  crept  very  close  to  one  of  her 
windows  and  listened  intently.     Surely  no  mortal  awake 

293 


294  THE  HARVESTER 

could  lie  motionless  so  long.  She  must  be  sleeping.  He 
patted  Belshazzar,  whispered,  "Watch,  boy,  watch  for 
your  life!"  and  then  crossed  to  the  dry-house.  Beside 
it  he  found  a  big  roll  of  coffee  sacks  that  he  used  in  col- 
lecting roots,  and  going  to  the  barn,  he  took  a  spade  and 
mattock.  Then  he  climbed  the  hill  to  the  oak;  in  the 
white  moonlight  laid  off  his  measurements  and  began 
work.  His  heart  was  very  tender  as  he  lifted  the  earth, 
and  threw  it  into  the  tops  of  the  big  bags  he  had  propped 
open. 

"I'll  line  it  with  a  couple  of  sheets  and  finish  the  edge 
with  pond  lilies  and  ferns,"  he  planned,  "and  I'll  drag 
this  earth  from  sight,  and  cover  it  with  brush  until  I 
need  it." 

Sometimes  he  paused  in  his  work  to  rest  a  few  minutes 
and  then  he  stood  and  glanced  around  him.  Several 
times  he  went  down  the  hill  and  slipped  close  to  a  window, 
but  he  could  not  hear  a  sound.  When  his  work  was 
finished,  he  stood  before  the  oak,  scraping  clinging  earth 
from  the  mattock  with  which  he  had  cut  roots  he  had 
been  compelled  to  remove.  He  was  tired  now  and  he 
thought  he  would  go  to  his  room  and  sleep  until  daybreak. 
As  he  turned  the  implement  he  remembered  how  through 
it  he  had  found  her,  and  now  he  was  using  it  in  her 
service.  He  smiled  as  he  worked,  and  half  listened  to 
the  steady  roll  of  sound  encompassing  him.  A  cool 
breath  swept  from  the  lake  and  he  wondered  if  it  found 
her  wet,  hot  cheek.  A  wild  duck  in  the  rushes  below 
gave  an  alarm  signal,  and  it  ran  in  subdued  voice,  note 


SNOWY  WINGS  295 

by  note,  along  the  shore.  The  Harvester  gripped  the 
mattock  and  stood  motionless.  Wild  things  had  taught 
him  so  many  lessons  he  heeded  their  warnings  instinc- 
tively. Perhaps  it  was  a  mink  or  muskrat  approaching 
the  rushes.  Listening  intently,  he  heard  a  stealthy  step 
coming  up  the  path  behind  him. 

The  Harvester  waited.  He  soundlessly  moved  around 
the  trunk  of  the  big  tree.  An  instant  more  the  night 
prowler  stopped  squarely  at  the  head  of  the  open  grave, 
and  jumped  back  with  an  oath.  He  stood  tense  a  second, 
then  advanced,  scratched  a  match  and  dropped  it  into 
the  depths  of  the  opening.  That  instant  the  Harvester 
recognized  Henry  Jameson,  and  with  a  spring  landed  be- 
tween the  man's  shoulders  and  sent  him,  face  down,  head- 
long into  the  grave.  He  snatched  one  of  the  sacks  of 
earth,  and  tipping  it,  gripped  the  bottom  and  emptied 
the  contents  on  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  prostrate 
man.  Then  he  dropped  on  him  and  feeling  across  his 
back  took  an  ugly,  big  revolver  from  a  pocket.  He  swung 
to  the  surface  and  waited  until  Henry  Jameson  crawled 
from  under  the  weight  of  earth  and  began  to  rise;  then, 
at  each  attempt,  he  knocked  him  down.  At  last  he 
caught  the  exhausted  man  by  the  collar  and  dragged 
him  to  the  path,  where  he  dropped  him  and  stood  gloating. 

"So!"  he  said;  "It's  you!  Coming  to  execute  your 
threat,  are  you?  What's  the  matter  with  my  finishing 
you,  loading  your  carcass  with  a  few  stones  into  this  sack, 
and  dropping  you  in  the  deepest  part  of  the  lake. " 

There  was  no  reply. 


296  THE  HARVESTER 

"Ain't  you  a  little  hasty?"  asked  the  Harvester. 
"Isn't  it  rather  cold  blooded  to  come  sneaking  when  you 
thought  I'd  be  asleep?  Don't  you  think  it  would  be 
low  down  to  kill  a  man  on  his  wedding  day?" 

Henry  Jameson  arose  cautiously  and  faced  the  Har- 
vester. 

"Who  have  you  killed?"     he  panted. 

"No  one,"  answered  the  Harvester.  "This  is  for  the 
victim  of  a  member  of  your  family,  but  I  never  dreamed 
I'd  have  the  joy  of  planting  any  of  you  in  it  first,  even 
temporarily.  Did  you  rest  well?  What  I  should  have 
done  was  to  fill  in,  tread  down,  and  leave  you  at  the 
bottom. " 

Jameson  retreated  a  few  steps.  The  Harvester  laughed 
and  advanced  the  same  distance. 

"Now  then,"  he  said,  "explain  what  you  are  doing 
on  my  premises,  a  few  hours  after  your  threat,  and 
armed  with  another  revolver  before  I  could  return  the 
one  I  took  from  you  this  afternoon.  You  must  grow 
them  on  bushes  at  your  place,  they  seem  so  numerous. 
Speak  up!     What  are  you  doing  here?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"There  are  three  things  it  might  be,"  mused  the 
Harvester.  "You  might  think  to  harm  me,  but  you're 
watched  on  that  score  and  I  don't  believe  you'd  enjoy 
the  result  sure  to  follow.  You  might  contemplate  try- 
ing to  steal  Ruth's  money  again,  but  we'll  pass  that  up. 
You  might  want  to  go  through  my  woods  to  inform  your- 
self as  to  what  I  have  of  value  there.     But,  in  all  prob- 


SNOWY  WINGS  297 

ability,  you  are  after  me.     Well,  here  I  am.     Go  ahead! 
Do  what  you  came  to!" 

The  Harvester  stepped  toward  the  lake  bank  and  Jame- 
son, turning  to  watch  him,  exposed  a  face  ghastly 
through  its  grime. 

"Look  here!"  cried  the  Harvester,  sickening.  "We 
will  end  this  right  now.  I  was  rather  busy  this  after- 
noon, but  I  wasn't  too  hurried  to  take  that  little  weapon 
of  yours  to  the  chief  of  police  and  tell  him  where  and  how 
I  got  it  and  what  occurred.  He  was  to  return  it  to  you 
to-morrow  with  his  ultimatum.  When  I  have  added 
the  history  of  to-night,  reinforced  by  another  gun,  he 
will  understand  your  intentions  and  know  where  you  be- 
long. You  should  be  confined,  but  because  your  name 
is  the  same  as  the  Girl's,  and  there  is  of  your  blood  in  her 
veins,  I'll  give  you  one  more  chance.  I'll  let  you  go  this 
time,  but  I'll  report  you,  and  deliver  this  implement  to 
be  added  to  your  collection  at  headquarters.  And  I 
tell  you,  and  I'll  tell  them,  that  if  ever  I  find  you  on  my 
premises  again,  I'll  finish  you  on  sight.     Is  that  clear?" 

Jameson  nodded. 

"What  I  should  do  is  to  plump  you  squarely  into  con- 
finement, as  I  could  easily  enough,  but  that's  not  my 
way.  I  am  going  to  let  you  off,  but  you  go  knowing  the 
law.  One  thing  more:  Don't  leave  with  any  distorted 
ideas  in  your  head.  I  saw  Ruth  the  day  she  stepped 
from  the  cars  in  Onabasha  and  I  loved  her.  I  wanted 
to  court  and  marry  her,  as  any  man  would  the  girl  he 
loves,   but  you   spoiled   that  with   your  woman   killing 


298  THE  HARVESTER 

brutality.  So  I  married  her  in  Onabasha  this  afternoon. 
You  can  see  the  records  at  the  county  clerk's  office  and 
interview  the  minister  who  performed  the  ceremony, 
if  you  doubt  me.  Ruth  is  in  her  room,  comfortable  as 
I  can  make  her,  asleep  and  unafraid,  thank  God!  This 
grave  is  for  her  mother.  The  Girl  wants  her  lifted  from 
the  horrible  place  you  put  her,  and  laid  where  it  is  shel- 
tered and  pleasant.  Now,  I'll  see  you  off  my  land. 
Hurry  yourself!" 

With  the  Harvester  following,  Henry  Jameson  went 
back  over  the  path  he  had  come,  until  he  reached  and 
mounted  the  horse  he  had  ridden.  As  the  Harvester 
watched  him,  Jameson  turned  in  the  saddle  and  spoke 
for  the  second  time. 

"What  will  you  give  me  in  cold  cash  to  tell  you  who 
she  is,  and  where  her  mother's  people  are?" 

The  Harvester  leaped  for  the  bridle  and  missed. 
Jameson  bent  over  the  horse  and  lashed  it  to  a  run. 
Half  way  to  the  oak  the  Harvester  remembered  the 
revolver,  but  being  unaccustomed  to  weapons,  he  had 
forgotten  it  when  he  needed  it  most.  He  replaced  the 
earth  in  the  sack  and  dragged  it  away,  then  plunged 
into  the  lake,  and  afterward  went  to  bed,  where  he  slept 
soundly  until  dawn.  First,  he  slipped  into  the  living- 
room  and  wrote  a  note  to  the  Girl.  Then  he  fed  Bcl- 
shazzar  and  ate  a  hearty  breakfast.  He  stationed  the 
dog  at  her  door,  gave  him  the  note,  and  went  to  the  oak. 
There  he  arranged  everything  neatly  and  as  he  desired, 
and  then  hitching  Betsy  he  quietly  guided  her  down  the 


SNOWY  WINGS  299 

drive  and  over  the  road  to  Onabasha.  He  went  to  an 
undertaking  establishment,  made  all  his  arrangements, 
and  then  called  up  and  talked  with  the  minister  who 
had  performed  the  marriage  ceremony  the  previous  day. 
The  sun  shining  in  her  face  awoke  Ruth  and  she  lay 
revelling  in  the  light.  "Maybe  it  will  colour  me  faster 
than  the  powder,"  she  thought.  "How  peculiar  for  him 
to  say  what  he  did!  I  always  thought  men  detested  it. 
But  he  is  not  like  any  one  else. "  She  lay  looking  around 
the  beautiful  room  and  wondering  where  the  Harvester 
was.  She  could  not  hear  him.  Then,  slowly  and  pain- 
fully, she  dragged  her  aching  limbs  from  the  bed  and 
went  to  the  door.  The  dog  was  gone  from  the  porch 
and  she  could  not  see  the  man  at  the  stable.  She  se- 
lected a  frock  and  putting  it  on  opened  the  door.  Bel- 
shazzar  arose  and  offered  this  letter: 

Dear  Ruth: 

I  have  gone  to  keep  my  promise.  You  are  locked  in 
with  Bel.  Please  obey  me  and  do  not  step  outside  the 
door  until  four  o'clock.  Then  put  on  a  pretty  white 
dress,  and  with  the  dog,  come  to  the  bridge  to  meet  me. 
I  hope  you  will  not  suffer  and  fret.  Put  away  your 
clothing,  arrange  the  rooms  to  keep  busy,  or  better 
yet,  lie  in  the  swing  and  rest.  There  is  food  in  the  ice 
chest,  pantry,  and  cellar.  Forgive  me  for  leaving  you 
to-day,  but  I  thought  you  would  feel  easier  to  have  this 
over.  I  am  so  glad  to  bring  your  mother  here.  I  hope 
it  will  make  you  happy  enough  to  meet  us  with  a  smile. 
Do  not  forget  the  pink  box  until  the  reality  comes. 

With  love, 

David. 


3oo  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Girl  went  to  the  kitchen  and  found  food.  She 
offered  to  share  with  Belshazzar,  but  she  could  see  from 
his  indifference  he  was  not  hungry.  Then  she  returned 
to  the  room  flooded  with  light,  and  filled  with  treasures, 
and  tried  to  decide  how  she  would  arrange  her  clothing. 
She  spent  hours  opening  boxes  and  putting  dainty,  pretty 
garments  in  the  drawers,  hanging  the  dresses,  and  plac- 
ing the  toilet  articles.  Often  she  wearily  dropped  to  the 
chairs  and  couches,  or  gazed  from  door  and  windows  at 
the  pictures  they  framed.  "I  wonder  why  he  doesn't 
want  me  to  go  outside,"  she  thought.  "I  wouldn't 
be  afraid  in  the  least,  with  Bel.  I'd  just  love  to  go  across 
to  that  wonderful  little  river  of  Singing  Water  and  sit 
in  the  shade;  but  I  won't  open  the  door  until  four  o'clock, 
just  as  he  wrote." 

When  she  thought  of  where  he  had  gone,  and  why,  the 
swift  tears  filled  her  eyes,  but  she  forced  them  back  and 
resolutely  went  to  investigate  the  dining-room.  Then 
for  two  hours  she  was  a  home  builder,  with  a  touch  of 
that  homing  instinct  found  in  the  heart  of  every  good 
woman.  First,  she  looked  where  the  Harvester  had  said 
the  dishes  were,  and  suddenly  sat  on  the  floor  exulting. 
There  was  a  quantity  of  old  chipped  and  cracked  white 
ware  and  some  gorgeous  baking  powder  prizes;  but  there 
were  also  big  blue,  green,  and  pink  bowls,  several  large 
lustre  plates,  and  a  complete  tea  set  without  chip  or 
blemish,  two  beautiful  pitchers,  and  a  number  of  willow 
pieces.  She  set  the  green  bowl  on  the  dining  table, 
the  blue  on  the  living-room,  and  took  the  pink  herself, 


SNOWY  WINGS  301 

while  a  beautiful  yellow  one  she  placed  in  the  dining- 
room  window  seat. 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  dared  fill  them  with  those  lovely  flowers ! " 
She  stood  in  the  window  and  gazed  longingly  toward  the 
lake.  "I  know  what  colour  I'd  like  to  put  in  each  of 
them,"  she  said,  "but  I  promised  not  to  touch  anything, 
and  the  ones  I  want  most  I  never  saw  before,  and  I'm 
not  to  go  out  anyway.  I  can't  see  the  sense  in  that, 
when  I'm  not  at  all  afraid,  but  if  he  does  this  wonderful 
thing  for  me  I  must  do  what  he  asks.  Oh  mother, 
mother!  Are  you  really  coming  to  this  beautiful  place 
and  to  rest  at  last?" 

She  sank  to  the  window  seat  and  lay  trembling,  but 
she  bravely  restrained  the  tears.  After  a  time  she 
remembered  the  upstairs  and  went  to  see  the  coverlets. 
She  found  a  half  dozen  beautiful  ones,  and  smiled  as 
she  examined  the  stiffly  conventionalized  birds  facing 
each  other  in  the  border  designs,  and  in  one  corner  of 

each  blanket  she  read,  woven  in  the  cloth 

Peter  and  John 

Hartman 

Wooster 

Ohio 

1837 
She  took  a  blue  and  a  green  one,  several  fine  skins 

from  the  fur  box  the  Harvester  had  told  her  about,  and 

went  downstairs.     It  required  all  her  strength  to  push 

the  heavy  tables  before  the  fireplaces.     She  spread  papers 

on  them  to  stand  on,  and   tacked   a   skin   above  each 

mantel.     She   set  all  of  the  candlesticks,   except  those 


302  THE  HARVESTER 

she  wanted  to  use,  in  the  lower  part  of  an  empty  book- 
case. A  pair  of  black  walnut  she  placed  on  the  living- 
room  mantel,  together  with  a  big  blue  plate,  a  yellow 
one,  and  an  old  brass  candlestick.  She  admired  the 
effect  very  much.  She  spread  the  blue  coverlet  on 
the  couch,  and  arranged  the  blue  bowl  and  some  books 
on  the  table.  Here  and  there  she  hung  a  skin  across  a 
chair  back,  or  spread  it  in  a  wide  window  seat.  Having 
exhausted  all  her  resources,  she  returned  to  the  dining- 
room,  spread  a  skin  before  the  hearth  and  in  each  win- 
dow seat,  set  a  pink  and  green  lustre  plate  on  the  mantel, 
and  a  pair  of  oak  candlesticks,  and  arranged  the  lustre 
tea  set  on  the  side  table.  The  pink  coverlet  she  took 
for  herself,  and  after  resting  a  time  she  was  surprised 
on  going  back  to  the  rooms  to  see  how  homelike  they 
appeared. 

At  three  o'clock  she  dressed  and  at  almost  four  un- 
locked the  screen,  called  Belshazzar  to  her  side,  and  slowly 
went  down  the  drive  to  the  bridge.  She  had  used  the 
pink  powder,  put  on  a  beautiful  white  dress,  carefully- 
arranged  her  hair,  and  she  wore  the  pearl  ornament. 
Once  her  fingers  strayed  to  the  pendant  and  she  said 
softly,  "I  think  both  he  and  mother  would  like  me  to 
wear  it." 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  she  stopped  at  a  bench  and  sat 
in  the  shade  waiting.  Belshazzar  stretched  beside  her, 
and  gazed  at  her  with  questioning,  friendly  dog  eyes. 
The  Girl  looked  from  Singing  Water  to  the  lake,  and 
up  the  hill  to  make  sure  it  was  real.      She  tried  to  quiet 


SNOWY  WINGS  303 

her  quivering  muscles  and  nerves.  He  had  asked  her 
to  meet  him  with  a  smile.  How  could  she?  He  could 
not  have  understood  what  it  meant  when  he  made  the 
request.  There  never  would  be  any  way  to  make  him 
realize;  indeed,  why  should  he?  The  smile  must  be 
ready.  He  had  loved  his  mother  deeply,  and  yet  he 
had  said  he  did  not  grieve  to  lay  her  to  rest.  Earth 
had  not  been  kind.  Then  why  should  she  sorrow  for 
her  mother?  Again  life  had  been  not  only  unkind,  but 
bitterly  cruel. 

Belshazzar  arose  and  watched  down  the  drive.  The 
Girl  looked  also.  Through  the  gate  and  up  the  levee 
came  a  strange  procession.  First  walked  the  Harvester 
alone,  with  bared  head,  and  he  carried  an  arm  load  of 
white  lilies.  A  carriage  containing  a  man  and  several 
women  followed.  Then  came  a  white  hearse  with  snowy 
plumes,  and  behind  that  another  carriage  filled  with 
people,  and  Betsy  followed  drawing  men  in  the  spring 
wagon.  The  Girl  arose  and  as  she  stepped  to  the  drive 
she  swayed  uncertainly  an  instant. 

"Gracious  Heaven !"  she  gasped.  "He  is  bringing 
her  in  white,  and  with  flowers  and  song!" 

Then  she  lifted  her  head,  and  with  a  smile  on  her  lips 
she  went  to  meet  him.  As  she  reached  his  side,  he 
tenderly  put  an  arm  around  her,  and  came  on  steadily. 

"Courage  Girl!"  he  whispered.  "Be  as  brave  as  she 
was!" 

Around  the  driveway  and  up  the  hill  he  half  carried 
her,  to  a  seat  he  had  placed  under  the  oak.     Before  her 


3o4  THE  HARVESTER 

lay  the  white-lined  grave,  and  the  Harvester  arranged 
his  lilies  around  it.  The  teams  stopped  at  the  barn  and 
men  came  up  the  hill  bearing  a  white  burden.  Behind 
them  followed  the  minister  who  yesterday  had  per- 
formed their  marriage  ceremony,  and  after  him  a  choir 
of  trained  singers  softly  chanting: 

"  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord, 
For  they  shall  cease  from  their  labours." 

"But  David,"  panted  the  Girl,  "It  was  mean  and 
poor.     That  is  not  she!" 

"Hush!"  said  the  Harvester.  "It  is  your  mother. 
The  location  was  high  and  dry,  and  it  has  been  only  a 
short  time.  We  wrapped  her  in  white  silk,  laid  her 
on  a  soft  cushion  and  pillow,  and  housed  her  securely. 
She  can  sleep  well  now,  Ruth.     Listen!" 

Covered  with  white  lilies,  slowly  the  casket  sank  into 
earth.  At  its  head  stood  the  minister  and  as  it  began 
to  disappear,  the  white  doves,  frightened  by  the  strange 
conveyances  at  the  stable,  came  circling  above.  The 
minister  looked  up.  He  lifted  a  clear  tenor,  and  softly 
and  purely  he  sang,  while  at  a  wave  of  his  hand  the  choir 
joined  him: 

"Oh,  come  angel  band!  Oh,  come,  and  around  me  stand  1 
Oh,  bear  me  away  on  your  snowy  wings  to  my  immorta  home!" 

He  uttered  a  low  benediction,  and  singing,  the  people 
turned  and  went  downhill.  The  Harvester  gathered 
the  Girl  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  to  the  lake.     He 


SNOWY  WINGS  305 

laid  her  in  his  boat  and  taking  the  oars  sent  it  along  the 
bank  in  the  shade,  and  through  cool,  green  places. 
"Now  cry  all  you  choose!"  he  said. 
The  overstrained  Girl  covered  her  face  and  sobbed 
wildly.     After  a  time  he  began  to  talk  to   her  gently, 
and  before  she  realized  it,  she  was  listening. 

"Death  has  been  kinder  to  her  than  life,  Ruth,"  he 
said.  "She  is  lying  as  you  saw  her  last,  I  think.  We 
lifted  her  very  tenderly,  wrapped  her  carefully,  and 
brought  her  gently  as  we  could.  Now  they  shall  rest 
together,  those  little  mothers  of  ours,  to  whom  men 
were  not  kind;  and  in  the  long  sleep  we  must  forget,  as 
they  have  forgotten,  and  forgive,  as  no  doubt  they  have 
forgiven.  Don't  you  want  to  take  some  lilies  to  them 
before  we  go  to  the  cabin?  Right  there  on  your  left 
are  unusually  large  ones." 

The  Girl  sat  up,  dried  her  eyes  and  gathered  the  white 
flowers.  When  the  last  vehicle  crossed  the  bridge,  the 
Harvester  tied  the  boat  and  helped  her  up  the  hill.  The 
old  oak  stretched  its  wide  arms  above  two  little  mounds, 
both  moss  covered  and  scattered  with  flowers.  The 
Girl  added  her  store  and  then  went  to  the  Harvester,  and 
sank  at  his  feet. 

"Ruth,  you  shall  not!"  cried  the  man.  "I  simply 
will  not  have  that.  Come  now,  I  will  bring  you  back 
this  evening." 

He  helped  her  to  the  veranda  and  laid  her  in  the  swing. 
He  sat  beside  her  while  she  rested,  and  then  they  went 
into   the   cabin   for   supper.     Soon   he   had   her   telling 


306  THE  HARVESTER 

what  she  had  found,  and  he  was  making  notes  of  what 
was  yet  required  to  transform  the  cabin  into  a  home. 
The  Harvester  left  it  to  her  to  decide  whether  he  should 
roof  the  bridge  the  next  day  or  make  a  trip  for  furnish- 
ings. She  said  he  had  better  buy  what  they  needed 
and  then  she  could  make  the  cabin  homelike  while  he 
worked  on  the  bridge. 


CHAPTER  XV 
The  Harvester  Interprets  Life 

SO  THEY  went  through  the  rooms  together,  and 
the  Girl  suggested  the  furnishings  she  thought 
necessary,  while  the  Harvester  wrote  the  list.  The 
following  morning  he  was  eager  to  have  her  company, 
but  she  was  very  tired  and  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
wait  in  the  swing,  so  again  he  drove  away  and  left  her 
with  Belshazzar  on  guard.  When  he  had  gone,  she  went 
through  the  cabin  arranging  the  furniture  the  best  she 
could,  then  dressed  and  went  to  the  swinging  couch.  It 
was  so  wide  and  heavy  a  light  wind  rocked  it  gently, 
and  from  it  she  faced  the  fern  and  lily  carpeted  hillside, 
the  majesty  of  big  trees  of  a  thousand  years,  and  heard 
the  music  of  Singing  Water  as  it  sparkled  diamond-like 
where  the  sun  rays  struck  its  flow.  Across  the  drive  and 
down  the  valley  to  the  brilliant  bit  of  marsh  it  hurried 
on  its  way  to  Loon  Lake. 

There  were  squirrels  barking  and  racing  in  the  big  trees 
and  over  the  ground.  They  crossed  the  sodded  space 
of  lawn  and  came  to  the  top  step  for  nuts,  eating  them 
from  cunning  paws.  They  were  living  life  according 
to  the  laws  of  their  nature.  She  knew  that  their  sharp, 
startling  bark  was  not  to  frighten  her,  but  to  warn  stray- 
so? 


308  THE  HARVESTER 

ing  intruders  of  other  species  of  their  kindred  from  a  nest, 
because  the  Harvester  had  told  her  so.  He  had  said 
their  racing  here  and  there  in  wild  scramble  was  a  game 
of  tag  and  she  found  it  most  interesting  to  observe. 

Birds  of  brilliant  colour  flashed  everywhere,  singing 
in  wild  joy,  and  tilted  on  the  rising  hedge  before  her, 
hunting  berries  and  seeds.  Their  bubbling,  spontaneous 
song  was  an  instinctive  outpouring  of  their  joy  over 
mating  time,  nests,  young,  much  food,  and  running  water. 
Their  social,  inquiring,  short  cry  was  to  locate  a  mate, 
and  call  her  to  good  feeding.  The  sharp  wild  scream  of  a 
note  was  when  a  hawk  passed  over,  a  weasel  lurked  in 
the  thicket,  or  a  black  snake  sunned  on  the  bushes.  She 
remembered  these  things,  and  lay  listening  intently,  try- 
ing to  interpret  every  sound  as  the  Harvester  did. 

Birds  of  wide  wing  hung  as  if  nailed  to  the  sky,  or 
wheeled  and  sailed  in  grandeur.  They  were  searching 
the  landscape  below  to  locate  a  hare  or  snake  in  the  wav- 
ing grass  or  carrion  in  the  fields.  The  wonderful  exhi- 
bitions of  wing  power  were  their  expression  of  exultation 
in  life,  just  as  the  song  sparrow  threatened  to  rupture 
his  throat  as  he  swung  on  the  hedge,  and  the  red  bird 
somewhere  in  the  thicket  whistled  so  forcefully  it  sounded 
as  if  the  notes  might  hurt  him. 

On  the  lake  bass  splashed  in  a  game  with  each  other. 
Grebes  chattered,  because  they  were  very  social.  Ducks 
dived  and  gobbled  for  roots  and  worms  of  the  lake  shore, 
and  congratulated  each  other  when  they  were  lucky. 

Killdeer  cried  for  slaughter,  in  plaintive  tones,  as  their 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  309 

white  breasts  gleamed  silver-like  across  the  sky.  They 
insisted  on  the  death  of  their  ancient  enemies,  because 
the  deer  had  trampled  nests  around  the  shore,  roiled  the 
water,  spoiled  the  food  hunting,  and  had  been  wholly 
unmindful  of  the  laws  of  feathered  folk  from  the  be- 
ginning. 

Behind    the   barn    imperial    cocks    crowed    challenges 

of  defiance  to  each  other  and  all  the  world,  because 
they  once  had  worn  royal  turbans  on  their  heads,  and 
ruled  the  forests,  even  the  elephants  and  lions.  Happy 
hens  cackled  when  they  deposited  an  egg,  and  wan- 
dered through  their  park  singing  the  spring  egg  song 
unceasingly. 

Upon  the  barn  Ajax  spread  and  exulted  in  glittering 
plumage,  and  screamed  viciously.  He  was  sending  a 
wireless  plea  to  the  forests  of  Ceylon  for  a  gray  mate  to 
come  and  share  the  ridge  pole  with  him,  and  help  him 
wage  red  war  on  the  sickening  love  making  of  the  white 
doves  he  hated. 

Everything  was  beautiful,  some  of  it  was  amusing, 
all  instructive,  and  intensely  interesting.  The  Girl 
wanted  to  know  about  the  brown,  yellow,  and  black 
butterflies  sailing  from  flower  to  flower.  She  watched 
big  black  and  gold  bees  come  from  the  forest  for  pollen 
and  listened  to  their  monotonous  bumbling.  Her  first 
humming  bird  poised  in  air,  and  sipped  nectar  before 
her  astonished  eyes.  It  was  marvellous,  but  more  won- 
derful to  the  Girl  than  anything  she  saw  or  heard  was 
the  fact  that  because  of  the  Harvester's  teachings  she 


310  THE  HARVESTER 

now  could  trace  through  all  of  it  the  ordained  processes 
of  the  evolution  of  life.  Everything  was  right  in  its  way, 
all  necessary  to  human  welfare,  and  so  there  was  nothing 
to  fear,  but  marvels  to  learn  and  pictures  to  appreciate. 
She  would  have  taken  Belshazzar  and  gone  out,  but 
the  Harvester  had  exacted  a  promise  that  she  would  not. 
The  fact  was,  he  could  see  that  she  was  coming  gradually 
to  a  sane  and  natural  view  of  life  and  living  things,  and 
he  did  not  want  some  sound  or  creature  to  frighten  her, 
and  spoil  what  he  had  accomplished.  So  she  swayed 
in  the  swing  and  watched,  and  tried  to  interpret  sights 
and  sounds  as  he  did. 

Before  an  hour  she  realized  that  she  was  coming 
speedily  into  sympathy  with  the  wild  life  around  her;  for, 
instead  of  shivering  and  shrinking  at  unaccustomed 
sounds,  she  was  listening  especially  for  them,  and  trying 
to  arrive  at  a  sane  version.  Instead  of  the  sense- 
less roar  of  commerce,  manufacture,  and  life  of  a  city, 
she  was  beginning  to  appreciate  sounds  that  varied  and 
carried  the  Song  of  Life  in  unceasing  measure  and  ab- 
sorbing meaning,  while  she  was  more  than  thankful 
for  the  fresh,  pure  air,  and  the  blessed,  God-given  light. 
It  seemed  to  the  Girl  that  there  was  enough  sunshine  at 
Medicine  Woods  to  furnish  rays  of  gold  for  the  whole 
world. 

"Bel,"  she  said  to  the  dog  standing  beside  her,  "it's  a 
shame  to  separate  you  from  the  Medicine  Man  and  pen 
you  here  with  me.  It's  a  wonder  you  don't  bite  off  my 
head  and  run  away  to  find  him.     He's  gone  to  bring  more 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  311 

things  to  make  life  beautiful.  I  wanted  to  go  with  him, 
but  oh  Bel,  there's  something  dreadfully  wrong  with 
me.  I  was  afraid  I'd  fall  on  the  streets  and  frighten  and 
shame  him.  I'm  so  weak,  I  scarcely  can  walk  straight 
across  one  of  these  big,  cool  rooms  that  he  has  built  for 
me.     He  can  make  everything  beautiful,   Bel,  a  home, 

rooms,  clothing,  grounds,  and  life above  everything 

else  he  can  make  life  beautiful.  He's  so  splendid  and 
wonderful,  with  his  wide  understanding  and  sane  inter- 
pretation and  God-like  sympathy  and  patience.  Why 
Belshazzar,  he  can  do  the  greatest  thing  in  all  the  world! 
He  can  make  you  forget  that  the  grave  annihilates  your 
dear  ones  by  hideous  processes,  and  set  you  to  thinking 
instead  that  they  come  back  to  you  in  whispering  leaves 
and  flower  perfumes.  If  I  didn't  owe  him  so  much  that 
I  ought  to  pay,  if  this  wasn't  so  alluringly  beautiful,  I'd 
like  to  go  to  the  oak  and  lie  beside  those  dear  women 
resting  there,  and  give  my  tired  body  to  furnish  sap  for 
strength  and  leaves  for  music.     He  can  take  its  bitterest 

sting from    death,    Bel and    that's    the    most 

wonderful  thing in  life,  Bel " 

Her  voice  became  silent,  her  eyes  closed;  the  dog 
stretched  himself  beside  her  on  guard,  and  it  was  so  the 
Harvester  found  them  when  he  drove  home  from  the 
city.  He  heaped  his  load  in  the  dining-room,  stabled 
Betsy,  carried  the  things  he  had  brought  where  he  thought 
they  belonged,  and  prepared  food.  When  she  awakened 
she  came  to  him. 

"How  is  it  going,  Girl?"  asked  the  Harvester. 


312  THE  HARVESTER 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  lovely  it  has  been!" 

"Do  you  really  mean  that  your  heart  is  warming  a 
little  to  things  here?" 

" Indeed  I  do!  I  can't  tell  you  what  a  morning  I've  had. 
There  have  been  such  myriad  things  to  see  and  hear.  Oh 
Harvester,  can  you  ever  teach  me  what  all  of  it  means?" 

"I  can  right  now,"  said  the  Harvester  promptly. 
"It  means  two  things,  so  simple  any  little  child  can  un- 
derstand   the  love  of  God  and  the  evolution  of  life. 

I  am  not  precisely  clear  as  to  what  I  mean  when  I  say 
God.  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  spirit,  matter,  or  force; 
it  is  that  big  thing  that  brings  forth  worlds,  establishes 
their  orbits,  and  gives  us  heat,  light,  food,  and  water.  To 
me,  that  is  God  and  His  love.  Just  that  we  are  given 
birth,  sheltered,  provisioned,  and  endowed  for  our  work. 
Evolution  is  the  natural  consequence  of  this.  It  is  the 
plan  steadily  unfolding.  If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't 
bother  my  head  over  these  questions;  they  never  have 
been  scientifically  explained  to  the  beginning;  I  doubt  if 
they  ever  will  be,  because  they  start  with  the  origin  of 
matter  and  that  is  too  far  beyond  man  for  him  to  pene- 
trate.    Just  enjoy  to  the  depths  of  your  soul that's 

worship.  Be  thankful  for  everything that's  prais- 
ing God  as  the  birds  praise  him.     And  cdo  unto  others' 

that's  all  there  is  of  love  and  religion  combined  in 

one  fell  swoop." 

"You  should  go  before  the  world  and  tell  every  one 
that!" 

"No!     It    isn't    my    vocation,"    said    the    Harvester. 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  313 

"My  work  is  to  provide  pain-killer.  I  don't  believe, 
Ruth,  that  there  is  any  one  on  the  footstool  who  is  doing 
a  better  job  along  that  line.  I  am  boastfully  proud  of 
it just  of  sending  in  the  packages  that  kill  fever,  re- 
fresh poor  blood,  and  strengthen  weak  hearts;  unadul- 
terated, honest  weight,  fresh,  and  scrupulously  clean. 
My  neighbours  have  a  different  name  for  it;  I  call  it  a 

man's  work." 

"Every  one  who  understands  must,"  said  the  Girl. 
"I  wish  I  could  help  at  that.  I  feel  as  if  it  would  do 
more  to  wipe  out  the  pain  I've  suffered  and  seen  her 
endure  than  anything  else.  Man,  when  I  grow  strong 
enough  I  want  to  help  you.  I  believe  that  I  am  going 
to  love  it  here." 

"Don't  ever   suppress   your  feelings,   Ruth!"   hastily 
cried  the  Harvester.     "  It  will  be  very  bad  for  you.     You 
will  become  wrought  up,  and  '  het  up,'  as  Granny  More- 
land  says,  and  it  will  make  you  very  ill.     When  we  drive 
the  fever  from  your  blood,  the  ache  from  your  bones,  the 
poison  of  wrong  conditions  from  your  soul,   and  good, 
healthy,    red    corpuscles    begin    pumping    through    your 
little  heart  like  a  windmill,  you  can  stake  your  life  you're 
going  to  love  it  here.     And  the  location  and  work  are 
not   all   you're   going   to   care   for   either,   honey.     Now 
just  wait!     That  was  not  'nominated  in  the  bond.'     I'm 
allowed  to  talk.     I  never  agreed  not  to  say  things.     What 
I  promised  was  not  to  do  them.     So  as  I  said,  honey, 
sit  at  this  table,  and  eat  the  food  I've  cooked;  and  by 
that  time  the  furniture  van  will  be  here,  and  the   men  will 


3H  THE  HARVESTER 

unload,  and  you  shall  reign  on  a  throne  and  tell  me  where 
and  how." 

"Oh  if  I  were  only  stronger,  David!" 

:'You  are!"  said  the  Harvester.  "You  are  much 
better  than  you  were  yesterday.  You  can  talk,  and  that's 
all  that's  necessary.  The  rooms  are  ready  for  furniture. 
The  men  will  carry  it  where  you  want  it.  A  decorator 
is  coming  to  hang  the  curtains.  By  night  we  will  be 
settled;  you  can  lie  in  the  swing  while  I  read  to  you  a 
story  so  wonderful  that  the  wildest  fairy  tale  you  ever 
heard  never  touched  it." 

"What  will  it  be,  David?" 

"Eat  all  the  red  raspberries  and  cream,  bread  and 
butter,  and  drink  all  the  milk  you  can.  There's  blood, 
beefsteak,  and  bones  in  it.  As  I  was  saying,  you  have 
come  here  a  stranger  to  a  strange  land.  The  first  thing 
is  for  you  to  understand  and  love  the  woods.  Before 
you  can  do  that  you  should  master  the  history  of  one 
tree;  just  the  same  as  you  must  learn  to  know  and  love 
me  before  your  childlike  trust  in  all  mankind  returns 
again.  Understand?  Well,  the  fates  knew  you  were  on 
the  way,  coming  trembling  down  the  brink,  Ruth,  so 
they  put  it  into  the  heart  of  a  great  man  to  write  largely 
of  a  wonderful  tree,  especially  for  your  benefit.  After 
it  had  fallen  he  took  it  apart,  split  it  in  sections,  and  year 
by  year  spread  out  history  for  all  the  world  to  read.  It 
made  a  classic  story  rilled  with  unsurpassed  wonders. 
It  was  a  pine  of  a  thousand  years,  close  the  age  of  our 
mother  tree,  Ruth,  and  when  we  have  learned  from  Enos 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  315 

Mills  how  to  wrest  secrets  from  the  hearts  of  centuries, 
we  will  climb  the  hill  and  measure  our  oak,  and  then  1 
will  estimate,  and  you  will  write,  and  we  will  make  a 
record  for  our  tree." 

"Oh  I'd  like  that!" 

"So  would  I,"  said  the  Harvester.  "And  a  million 
other  things  I  can  think  of  that  we  can  learn  together. 
It  won't  require  long  for  me  to  teach  you  all  I  know,  and 
by  that  time  your  hand  will  be  clasped  in  mine,  and 
our  '  hearts  will  beat  as  one,'  and  you  will  give  me  a  kiss 
every  night  and  morning,  and  a  few  during  the  day  for 
interest,  and  we  will  go  on  in  life  together  and  learn  songs, 
miracles,  and  wonders  until  the  old  oak  calls  us.  Then 
we  will  ascend  the  hill  gladly  and  lie  down  and  offer 
up  our  bodies,  and  our  children  will  lay  flowers  over  our 
hearts,  and  gather  the  herbs  and  paint  the  pictures,  Amen. 
I  hear  a  van  on  the  bridge.  Just  you  go  to  your  room 
and  lie  down  until  I  get  things  unloaded  and  where  they 
belong.  Then  you  and  the  decorator  can  make  us  home- 
like, and  to-morrow  we  will  begin  to  live.  Won't  that 
be  great,  Ruth?" 

"With  you,  yes,  I  think  it  will." 

"That  will  do  for  this  time,"  said  the  Harvester,  as 
he  opened  the  door  to  her  room.  "Lie  and  rest  until 
I  say  ready." 

As  he  went  to  meet  the  men,  she  could  hear  him  singing 
lustily,  "  Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow." 

"What  a  child  he  is!"  she  said.     "And  what  a  man!" 

For   an  hour  heavy  feet  sounded   through   the  cabin 


316  THE  HARVESTER 

carrying  furniture  to  different  rooms.  Then  with  a  floor 
brush  in  one  hand,  and  a  polishing  cloth  in  the  other, 
the  Harvester  tapped  at  her  door  and  helped  the  Girl  up- 
stairs. He  had  divided  the  space  into  three  large,  square 
sleeping  chambers.  In  each  he  had  set  up  a  white  iron 
bed,  a  dressing  table,  and  wash  stand,  and  placed  two 
straight-backed  and  one  rocking  chair,  all  white.  The 
walls  were  tinted  lightly  with  green  added  to  the  plaster. 
There  was  a  mattress  and  a  stack  of  bedding  on  each  bed, 
and  a  large  rug  and  several  small  ones  on  the  floors.  He 
led  her  to  the  rocking  chair  in  the  middle  room,  where 
she  could  see  through  the  open  doors  of  the  other  two. 

"Now,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  didn't  know  whether 
the  room  with  two  windows  toward  the  lake  and  one  on 
the  marsh,  or  two  facing  the  woods  and  one  front,  was 
the  guest  chamber.  It  seemed  about  an  even  throw 
whether  a  visitor  would  prefer  woods  or  water,  so  I  made 
them  both  guest  chambers,  and  got  things  alike  for  them. 
Now  if  we  are  entertaining  two,  one  can't  feel  more  highly 
honoured  than  the  other.     Was  that  a  scheme?" 

"Fine!"  said  the  Girl.  "I  don't  see  how  it  could  be 
surpassed." 

"'Be  sure  you  are  right,  then  go  ahead,'"  quoted  the 
Harvester.  "Now  I'll  make  the  beds  and  Mr.  Rogers 
can  hang  the  curtains.  Is  white  correct  for  sleeping 
rooms?     Won't  that  wash  best  and  always  be  fresh?" 

"It  will,"  said  the  Girl.  "White  wash  curtains  are 
much  the  nicest." 

"Make   them  short,  Mr.   Rogers;   keep   them  off  the 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  317 

floor,"  advised  the  Harvester.     "And  simple don't 

arrange  any  thing  elaborate  that  will  tire  a  woman  to 
keep  in  order.  Whack  them  off  the  right  length  and  pin 
them  to  the  poles." 

"How  about  that  Mrs.  Langston?"  asked  the  deco- 
rator. 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  is  the  very  best  thing  to  do," 
said  the  Girl;  and  the  curtains  were  hung  while  the  mat- 
tress was  placed. 

"Now  about  this?"  inquired  the  Harvester.  "Do  I 
put  on  sheets  and  fix  these  beds  ready  to  use?" 

"I  would  not,"  said  the  Girl.  "I  would  spread  the 
pad  and  the  counterpane  and  lay  the  sheets  and  pillows 
in  the  closet  until  they  are  wanted.  They  can  be  sunned 
and  the  bed  made  delightfully  fresh." 

"Of  course,"  said  the  Harvester. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  spread  a  cover  on  the  dressing 
table  and  laid  out  white  toilet  articles  and  grouped  a 
white  wash  set  with  green  decorations  on  the  stand. 
Then  he  brushed  the  floor,  spread  a  big  green  rug  in  the 
middle  and  small  ones  before  the  bed,  stand,  and  table, 
and  coming  out  closed  the  door. 

"Guest  chamber  with  lake  view  is  now  ready  for 
company,"  announced  the  Harvester.  "Repeat  the 
operation  on  the  woods  room,  finished  also.  Why  do 
some  people  make  work  of  things  and  string  them  out 
eternally  and  fuss  so  much?  Isn't  this  simple  and  easy, 
Ruth?" 

"Yes,  if  you  can  afford  it,"  said  the  Girl. 


3 iS  THE  HARVESTER 

"  Forbear ! "  cried  the  Harvester.  "  We  have  the  goods, 
the  dealer  has  my  check.  Excuse  me  ten  minutes,  until 
I  furnish  another  room.'' 

The  laughing  Girl  could  catch  glimpses  of  him  busy 
over  beds  and  dresser,  floor  and  rugs;  then  he  came  where 
she  sat. 

"Woods  guest  chamber  ready/'  he  said.  "Now  we 
come  to  the  interior  apartment,  that  from  its  view  might 
be  called  the  marsh  room.  Aside  from  being  two  win- 
dows short,  it  is  exactly  similar  to  the  others.  It  oc- 
curred to  me  that,  in  order  to  make  up  for  the  loss  of  those 
windows,  and  also  because  I  may  be  compelled  to  ask 
some  obliging  woman  to  occupy  it  in  case  your  health 
is  precarious  at  any  time,  and  in  view  of  the  further  fact 
that  if  any  such  woman  could  be  found,  and  would  kindly 
and  willingly  care  for  us,  my  gratitude  would  be  inex- 
pressible; on  account  of  all  these  things,  I  got  a  shade 
the  best  furnishings  for  this  room." 

The  Girl  stared  at  him  with  blank  face. 

"You  see,"  said  the  Harvester,  "this  is  a  question  of 
ethics.  Now  what  is  a  guest?  A  thing  of  a  day!  A 
person  who  disturbs  your  routine  and  interferes  with 
important  concerns.  Why  should  any  one  be  grateful 
for  company?  Why  should  time  and  money  be  lavished 
on  visitors?  They  come.  You  overwork  yourself. 
They  go.  You  are  glad  of  it.  You  return  the  visit, 
because  it's  the  only  way  to  have  back  at  them;  but  why 
pamper  them  unnecessarily?  Now  a  good  housekeeper, 
that    means    more   than   words    can    express.     Comfort, 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  319 

kindness,  sanitary  living,  care  in  illness!  Here's  to  the 
prospective  housekeeper  of  Medicine  Woods!  Rogers, 
hang  those  ruffled  embroidered  curtains.  Observe  that 
whereas  mere  guest  beds  are  plain  white,  this  has  a 
touch  of  brass.  Where  guest  rugs  are  floor  coverings, 
this  is  a  work  of  art.  Where  guest  brushes  are  celluloid, 
these  are  enamelled,  and  the  dresser  cover  is  hand  em- 
broidered. Let  me  also  call  your  attention  to  the  chairs 
touched  with  gold,  cushioned  for  ease,  and  a  decorated 
pitcher  and  bowl.  Watch  the  bounce  of  these  springs 
and  the  thickness  of  this  mattress  and  pad,  and  notice 
that  where  guests,  however  welcome,  get  a  down 
cover  of  sateen,  the  lady  of  the  house  has  silkaline. 
Won't  she  prepare  us  a  breakfast  after  a  night  in  this 


room  r 


David,  are  you  in  earnest?"  gasped  the  Girl. 
"Don't  these  things  prove  it?"  asked  the  Harvester. 
"No  woman  can  enter  my  home,  when  my  necessities 
are  so  great  I  have  to  hire  her  to  come,  and  take  the 
worst  in  the  house.  After  my  wife,  she  gets  the  best, 
every  time.  Whenever  I  need  help,  the  woman  who  will 
come  and  serve  me  is  what  I'd  call  the  real  guest  of  the 
house.  Friend?  Where  are  your  friends  when  trouble 
comes?  It  always  brings  a  crowd  on  account  of  the  ex- 
citement, and  there  is  noise  and  racing;  but  if  your  soul 
is  saved  alive,  it  is  by  a  steady,  trained  hand  you  pay  to 
help  you.  Friends  come  and  go,  but  a  good  house- 
keeper remains  and  is  a  business  proposition  —  one  that 
if  conducted   rightly  for  both  parties   and  on  a  strictly 


32o  THE  HARVESTER 

common-sense  basis,  gives  you  living  comfort.  Now  that 
we  have  disposed  of  the  guests  that  go  and  the  one  that 
remains,  we  will  proceed  downward  and  arrange  for 
ourselves." 

"David,  did  you  ever  know  any  one  who  treated  a 
housekeeper  as  you  say  you  would?" 

"No.  And  I  never  knew  any  one  who  raised  medicinal 
stuff  for  a  living,  but  I'm  making  a  gilt-edged  success  of 
it,  and  I  would  of  a  housekeeper,  too." 

"It  doesn't  seem " 

"That's  the  bedrock  of  all  the  trouble  on  the  earth," 
interrupted  the  Harvester.  "We  are  a  nation  and  a 
part  of  a  world  that  spends  our  time  on  'seeming.'  Our 
whole  outer  crust  is  '  seeming.'  When  we  get  beneath 
the  surface  and  strike  the  being,  then  we  live  as  we  are 
privileged  by  the  Almighty.  I  don't  think  I  give 
a  tinker  how  anything  seems.  What  concerns  me  is 
how  it  is.  It  doesn't  'seem'  possible  to  you  to  hire  a 
woman  to  come  into  your  home  and  take  charge  of  its 
cleanliness  and  the  food  you  eat  —  the  very  foun- 
dation of  life  —  and  treat  her  as  an  honoured  guest, 
and  give  her  the  best  comfort  you  have  to  offer.  The 
cold  room,  the  old  covers,  the  bare  floor,  and  the  cast 
off  furniture  are  for  her.  No  wonder,  as  a  rule,  she 
gives  what  she  gets.  She  dignifies  her  labour  in  the 
same  ratio  that  you  do.  Wait  until  we  need  a  house- 
keeper, and  then  gaze  with  awe  on  the  one  I  will  raise 
to  your  hand." 
"I  wonder " 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  321 

*  Don't !     It's  wearing !     Come  tell  me  how  to  make  our 
living-room  less  bare  than  it  appears  at  present." 

They  went  downstairs  together,  followed  by  the 
decorator,  and  began  work  on  the  room.  The  Girl 
was  placed  on  a  couch  and  made  comfortable  and  then 
the  Harvester  looked  around. 

"That  bundle  there,  Rogers,  is  the  curtains  we  bought 
for  this  room.  If  you  and  my  wife  think  they  are  not 
right,  we  will  not  hang  them." 

The  decorator  opened  the  package  and  took  out  cur- 
tains of  tan-cloured  goods  with  a  border  of  blue  and 
brown. 

"Those  are  not  expensive,"  said  the  Harvester,  "but 
to  me  a  window  appears  bare  with  only  a  shade,  so  I 
thought  we'd  try  these,  and  when  they  become  soiled 
we'll  burn  them  and  buy  some  fresh  ones." 

"Good  idea!"  laughed  the  Girl.  "As  a  house  deco- 
rator you  surpass  yourself  as  a  Medicine  Man." 

"Fix  these  as  you  did  those  upstairs,"  ordered  the 
Harvester.  "We  don't  want  any  fol-de-rols.  Put  the 
bottom  even  with  the  sill  and  shear  them  off  at  the  top." 

"No,  I  am  going  to  arrange  these,"  said  the  deco- 
rator, "you  go  on  with  your  part." 

"All  right!"  agreed  the  Harvester.  "First,  I'll  lay 
the  big  rug." 

He  cleared  the  floor,  spread  a  large  rug  with  a  rich 
brown  centre  and  a  wide  blue  border.  Smaller  ones  of 
similar  design  and  colour  were  placed  before  each  of  the 
doors  leading  from  the  room. 


322  THE  HARVESTER 

"Now  for  the  hearth,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  got  this 
tan  goat  skin.     Doesn't  that  look  fairly  well  ? " 

It  certainly  did;  and  the  Girl  and  the  decorator  has- 
tened to  say  so.  The  Harvester  replaced  the  table  and 
chairs,  and  then  sat  on  the  couch  at  the  Girl's  feet. 

"I  call  this  almost  finished,"  he  remarked.  "All  we 
need  now  is  a  bouquet  and  something  on  the  walls,  and 
that  is  serious  business.  What  goes  on  them  usually 
remains  for  a  long  time,  and  so  it  should  be  selected  with 
care.     Ruth,  have  you  a  picture  of  your  mother?" 

"None  since  she  was  my  mother.  I  have  some  lovely 
girl  photographs." 

"Good!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Exactly  the  thing! 
I  have  a  picture  of  my  mother  when  she  was  a  pretty 
girl.  We  will  select  the  best  of  yours  and  have  them 
enlarged  in  those  beautiful  brown  prints  they  make  in 
these  days,  and  we'll  frame  one  for  each  side  of  the 
mantel.  After  that  you  can  decorate  the  other  walls 
as  you  see  things  you  want.  Fifteen  minutes  gone;  we 
are  ready  to  take  up  the  line  of  march  to  the  dining-room. 
Oh  I  forgot  my  pillows!  Here  are  a  half  dozen  tan, 
brown,  and  blue  for  this  room.  Ruth,  you  arrange 
them." 

The  Girl  heaped  four  on  the  couch,  stood  one  beside 
the  hearth,  and  laid  another  in  a  big  chair. 

"Now  I  don't  know  what  you  will  think  of  this," 
said  the  Harvester.  "I  found  it  in  a  magazine  at  the 
library.  I  copied  this  whole  room.  The  plan  was  to 
have  the  floor,  furniture,  and  casings  of  golden  oak  and 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  323 

the  walls  pale  green.  Then  it  said  get  yellow  curtains 
bordered  with  green  and  a  green  rug  with  yellow  figures, 
so  I  got  them.  I  had  green  leather  cushions  made  for 
the  window  seats,  and  these  pillows  go  on  them.  Hang 
the  saffron  curtains,  Rogers,  and  we  will  finish  in  good 
shape  for  dinner  by  six.  By  the  way,  Ruth,  when  will 
you  select  your  dishes?  It  will  take  a  big  set  to  fill 
all  these  shelves  and  you  shall  have  exactly  what  you 
want." 

"I  can  use  those  you  have  very  well." 

"Oh  no  you  can't I"  cried  the  Harvester.  "I  may  live 
and  work  in  the  woods,  but  I  am  not  so  benighted  that 
I  don't  own  and  read  the  best  books  and  magazines,  and 
subscribe  for  a  few  papers.  I  patronize  the  library  and 
see  what  is  in  the  stores.  My  money  will  buy  just  as 
much  as  any  man's,  if  I  do  wear  khaki  trousers.  Kindly 
notice  the  word.  Save  in  deference  to  your  ladyship  I 
probably  would  have  said  pants.  You  see  how  elite 
I  can  be  if  I  try.  And  it  not  only  extends  to  my  ward- 
robe, to  a  'yaller'  and  green  dining-room,  but  it  takes  in 
the  'chany'  as  well.  I  have  looked  up  that,  too.  You 
want  china,  cut  glass,  silver  cutlery,  and  linen.  Ye! 
Ye!  You  needn't  think  I  don't  know  anything  but  how 
to  dig  in  the  dirt.  I  have  been  studying  this  especially, 
and  I  know  exactly  what  to  get." 

"Come  here,"  said  the  Girl,  making  a  place  for  him 
beside  her.  "Now  let  me  tell  you  what  I  think.  We 
are  going  to  live  in  the  woods,  and  our  home  is  a  log 
cabin " 


324  THE  HARVESTER 

"With  acetylene  lights,  a  furnace,  baths,  and  hot  and 
cold  water "  interpolated  the  Harvester. 

The  Girl  and  the  decorator  laughed. 

"Anyway,"  said  she,  "if  you  are  going  to  let  me  have 
what  I  would  like,  I'd  prefer  a  set  of  tulip  yellow  dishes 
with  the  Dutch  little  figures  on  them.  I  don't  know 
what  they  cost,  but  certainly  they  are  not  so  expensive 
as  cut  glass  and  china." 

"Is  that  earnest  or  is  it  because  you  think  I  am  spend- 
ing too  much  money?" 

"It  is  what  I  want.  Everything  else  is  different;  why 
should  we  have  dishes  like  city  folk?  I'd  dearly  love 
to  have  the  Dutch  ones,  and  a  white  cloth  with  a  yellow 
border,  glass  where  it  is  necessary,  and  silver  knives, 
forks,  and  spoons." 

"That  would  be  great,  all  right!"  endorsed  the  deco- 
rator. "And  you  have  got  a  priceless  old  lustre  tea  set 
there,  and  your  willow  ware  is  as  fine  as  I  ever  saw.  If 
I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  buy  a  dish  with  what  you  have, 
except  the  yellow  set." 

"Great  day!"  ejaculated  the  Harvester.  "Will  you 
tell  me  why  my  great  grandmother's  old  pink  and  green 
teapot  is  priceless?" 

The  Girl  explained  pink  lustre.  "That  set  in  the 
shop  I  knew  in  Chicago  would  sell  for  from  three  to  five 
hundred  dollars.  Truly  it  would!  I've  seen  one  little 
pink  and  green  pitcher  like  yours  bring  nine  dollars  there. 
And  you've  not  only  got  the  full  tea  set,  but  water  and 
dip  pitchers,   two  bowls,   and  two  bread  plates.     They 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  325 

are  priceless,  because  the  secret  of  making  them  is  lost; 
they  take  on  beauty  with  age,  and  they  were  your  great- 
grandmother's." 

The  Harvester  reached  over  and  energetically  shook 
hands. 

"Ruth,  I'm  so  glad  you've  got  them!"  he  bubbled. 
"Now  elucidate  on  my  willow  ware.  What  is  it?  Where 
is  it?  Why  have  I  willow  ware  and  am  not  informed. 
Who  is  responsible  for  this?  Did  my  ancestors  buy 
better  than  they  knew,  or  worse?  Is  willow  ware  a 
crime  for  which  I  must  hide  my  head,  or  is  it  further 
riches  thrust  upon  me?  I  thought  I  had  investigated 
the  subject  of  proper  dishes  quite  thoroughly;  but  I  am 
very  certain  I  saw  no  mention  of  lustre  or  willow.  I 
thought,  in  my  ignorance,  that  lustre  was  a  dress,  and 
willow  a  tree.  Have  I  been  deceived?  Why  is  a  blue 
plate  or  pitcher  willow  ware?" 

"Bring  that  platter  from  the  mantel,"  ordered  the 
Girl,  "and  I  will  show  you." 

The  Harvester  obeyed  and  followed  the  finger  that 
traced  the  design. 

"That's  a  healthy  willow  tree  I"  he  commented.  "If 
Loon  Lake  couldn't  go  ahead  of  that  it  should  be  drained. 
And  will  you  please  tell  me  why  this  precious  platter 
from  which   I   have   eaten   much   stewed   chicken,   fried 

ham,  and  in  youthful  days,  sopped  the  gravy will 

you  tell  me  why  this  relic  of  my  ancestors  is  called  a 
willow  plate,  when  there  are  a  majority  of  orange  trees 
so  extremely  fruitful  they  have  neglected  to  grow  a  leaf? 


326  THE  HARVESTER 

Why  is  it  not  an  orange  plate?  Look  at  that  boat! 
And  in  plain  sight  of  it,  two  pagodas,  a  summer  house, 
a  water-sweep,  and  a  pair  of  corpulent  swallows;  you' 
would  have  me  believe  that  a  couple  are  eloping  in  broad 
daylight." 

"Perhaps  it's  night!     And  those  birds  are  doves." 
"Never!"    cried    the    Harvester.     "There    is    a    total 
absence  of  shadows.     There  is  no  moon.     Each  orange 
tree  is  conveniently  split  in  halves,   so  you  can  see  to 
count  the  fruit  accurately;  the  birds  are  in  flight.     Only 
a  swallow  or  a  stork  can  fly  in  decorations,  either  by  day 
or  by  night.     And  for  any  sake  look  at  that  elopment! 
He  goes  ahead  carrying  a  cane,  she  comes  behind  lugging 
the  baggage,   another  man  with   a  cane  brings   up   the 
rear.^   They   are   not   running   away.     They   have   been 
married  ten  years  at  least.     In  a  proper  elopement,  they 
forget  there  are  such  things  as  jewels  and  they  always 
carry   each  other.     I've  often   looked   up   the   statistics 
and  it's  the  only  authorized  version.     As  I  regard  this 
treasure,  I  grow  faint  when  I  remember  with  what  un- 
necessary force  my  father  bore  down  when  he  carved 
the  ham.     I'll  bet  a  cooky  he  split  those  orange  trees. 

Now  me I'll  never  dare  touch  knife  to  it  again.     I'll 

always  carve  the  meat  on  the  broiler,  and  gently  lift  it 
to  this  platter  with  a  fork.  Or  am  I  not  to  be  allowed 
to  dine  from  my  ancestral  treasure  again?" 

"Not  in  a  green  and  yellow  room,"  laughed  the  Girl. 
"I'll  tell  you  what  I  think.  If  I  had  a  tea  table  to  match 
the  living-room  furniture,  and  it  sat  beside  the  hearth, 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  327 

and  on  it  a  chafing  dish  to  cook  in,  and  the  willow  ware 
to  eat  from,  we  could  have  little  tea  parties  in  there, 
when  we  aren't  very  hungry  or  to  treat  a  visitor.  It 
would  help  make  that  room  'homey,'  and  it's  wonderful 
how  they  harmonize  with  the  other  things." 

"How  much  willow  ware  have  I  got  to  'bestow'  on 
you?"  inquired  the  Harvester.  "Suppose  you  show  me 
all  of  it.  A  guilty  feeling  arises  in  my  breast,  and  I  fear 
me  I  have  committed  high  crimes!" 

"Oh  Man!  You  didn't  break  or  lose  any  of  those 
dishes,  did  you?" 

"Show  me!"  insisted  the  Harvester. 

The  Girl  arose  and  going  to  the  cupboard  he  had  de- 
signed for  her  china  she  opened  it,  and  set  before  him 
a  teapot,  cream  pitcher,  two  plates,  a  bowl,  a  pitcher, 
the  meat  platter,  and  a  sugar  bowl.  "If  there  were  all 
of  the  cups,  saucers,  and  plates,  I  know  where  they  would 
bring  five  hundred  dollars,"  she  said. 

"Ruth,  are  you  getting  even  with  me  for  poking  fun 
at  them,  or  are  you  in  earnest?"  asked  the  Harvester. 

"I  mean  every  word  of  it." 

"You  really  want  a  small,  black  walnut  table  made 
especially  for  those  old  dishes?" 

"Not  if  you  are  too  busy.  I  could  use  it  with  beautiful 
effect  and  much  pleasure,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  proud 
I'd  be  of  them." 

The  Harvester's  face  flushed.  "Excuse  me,"  he  said 
rising.  "I  have  now  finished  furnishing  a  house;  I  will 
go  and  take  a  peep  at  the  engine.*"     He  went  into  the 


328  THE  HARVESTER 

kitchen  and  hearing  the  rattle  of  dishes  the  Girl  followed. 
She  stepped  in  just  in  time  to  see  him  hastily  slide  some- 
thing into  his  pocket.  He  picked  up  a  half  dozen  old 
white  plates  and  saucers  and  several  cups  and  started 
toward  the  evaporator.     He  heard  her  coming. 

"Look  here,  honey,"  he  said  turning,  "you  don't  want 
to  see  the  dry-house  just  now.  I  have  terrific  heat  to 
do  some  rapid  work.  I  won't  be  gone  but  a  few  minutes. 
You  better  boss  the  decorator.     .     .     . 

"I'm  afraid  that  wasn't  very  diplomatic,"  he  muttered. 
"It  savoured  a  little  of  being  sent  back.  But  if  what 
she  says  is  right,  and  she  should  know  if  they  handle 
such  stuff  at  that  art  store,  she  will  feel  considerably 
better  not  to  see  this." 

He  set  his  load  at  the  door,  drew  an  old  blue  saucer 
from  his  pocket  and  made  a  careful  examination.  He 
pulled  some  leaves  from  a  bush  and  pushed  a  greasy 
cloth  out  of  the  saucer,  wiped  it  the  best  he  could,  and 
held  it  to  light. 

"That  is  a  crime!"  he  commented.  "Saucer  from  your 
maternal  ancestors'  tea  set  used  for  a  grease  dish.  I  am 
afraid  I'd  better  sink  it  in  the  lake.  She'd  feel  worse 
to  see  it  than  never  to  know.  Wish  I  could  clean  off 
the  grease!  I  could  do  better  if  it  was  hot.  I  can  set  it 
on  the  engine." 

The  Harvester  placed  the  saucer  on  the  engine,  entered 
the  dry-house,  and  closed  the  door.  In  the  stifling  air 
he  began  pouring  seed  from  beautiful,  big  willow  plates 
to  the  old  white  ones. 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  329 

"About  the  time  I  have  ruined  you,"  he  said  to  a  white 
plate,  "some  one  will  pop  up  and  discover  that  the  art 
of  making  you  is  lost  and  you  are  priceless,  and  I'll  have 
been  guilty  of  another  blunder.  Now  there  are  the 
dishes  mother  got  with  baking  powder.  She  thought 
they  were  grand.  I  know  plenty  well  she  prized  them 
more  than  these  blue  ones  or  she  wouldn't  have  saved 
them  and  used  these  for  every  day.  There  they  set, 
all  so  carefully  taken  care  of,  and  the  Girl  doesn't  even 
look  at  them.  Thank  Heaven,  there  are  the  four  remain- 
ing plates  all  right,  anyway!  Now  I've  got  seed  in  some 
of  the  saucers;  one  is  there;  where  on  earth  is  the  last  one? 
And  where,  oh  unkind  fates!  are  the  cups?" 

He  found  more  saucers  and  set  them  with  the  plates. 
As  he  passed  the  engine  he  noticed  the  saucer  on  it  was 
bubbling  grease,  literally  exuding  it  from  the  particles 
of  clay. 

"Hooray!"  cried  the  Harvester.  He  took  it  up,  but 
it  was  so  hot  he  dropped  it.  With  a  deft  sweep  he  caught 
it  in  air,  and  shoved  it  on  a  tray.  Then  he  danced  and 
blew  on  his  burned  hand.  Snatching  out  his  handker- 
chief he  rubbed  off  all  the  grease,  and  imagined  the  saucer 
was  brighter. 

"If  'a  little  is  good,  more  is  better,'"  quoted  the 
Harvester. 

Wadding  the  handkerchief  he  returned  the  saucer  to 
the  engine.  Then  he  slipped  out,  dripping  perspiration, 
glanced  toward  the  cabin,  and  ran  into  the  work  room. 
The  first  object  he  saw  was  a  willow  cup  half  full  of  red 


330  THE  HARVESTER 

paint,  stuck  and  dried  as  if  to  remain  forever.  He  took 
his  knife  and  tried  to  whittle  it  off,  but  noticing  that  he 
was  scratching  the  cup  he  filled  it  with  turpentine,  set 
it  under  a  work  bench,  turned  a  tin  pan  over  it,  and  cov- 
ered it  with  shavings.  A  few  steps  farther  brought  one 
in  sight,  filled  with  carpet  tacks.  He  searched  every- 
where, but  could  find  no  more,  so  he  went  to  the  labora- 
tory. Beside  his  wash  bowl  at  the  door  stood  the  last 
willow  saucer.  He  had  used  it  for  years  as  a  soap  dish. 
He  scraped  the  contents  on  the  bench  and  filled  the  dish 
with  water.  Four  cups  held  medicinal  seeds  and  were  in 
good  condition.  He  lacked  one,  although  he  could  not 
remember  of  ever  having  broken  it.  Gathering  his 
collection,  he  returned  to  the  dry-house  to  see  how  the 
saucer  was  coming  on.  Again  it  was  bubbling,  and  he 
polished  off  the  grease  and  set  back  the  dish.  It  certainly 
was  growing  better.  He  carried  his  treasures  into  the 
work  room,  and  went  to  the  barn  to  feed.  As  he  was 
leaving  the  stable  he  uttered  a  joyous  exclamation  and 
snatched  from  a  window  sill  a  willow  cup,  gummed  and 
smeared  with  harness  oil. 

"The  full  set,  by  hokey!"  marvelled  the  Harvester. 
"Say,  Betsy,  the  only  name  for  this  is  luck!  Now  if 
I  only  can  clean  them,  I'll  be  ready  to  make  her  tea  table, 
whatever  that  is.  My  I  hope  she  will  stay  away  until 
I  get  these  in  better  shape!" 

He  filled  the  last  cup  with  turpentine,  set  it  with  the 
other  under  the  work  bench,  stacked  the  remaining  pieces, 
polished  the  saucer  he  was  baking,  and  went  to  bring  a 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  331 

dish  pan  and  towel.  He  drew  some  water  from  the  pipes 
of  the  evaporator,  put  in  the  soap,  and  carried  it  to  the 
work  room.  There  he  carefully  washed  and  wiped  all 
the  pieces,  save  two  cups  and  one  saucer.  He  did  not 
know  how  long  it  would  require  to  bake  the  grease  from 
that,  but  he  was  sure  it  was  improving.  He  thought  he 
could  clean  the  paint  cup,  but  he  imagined  the  harness 
oil  one  would  require  baking  also. 

As  he  stood  busily  working  over  the  dishes,  with  light 
step  the  Girl  came  to  the  door.  She  took  one  long  look 
and  understood.  She  turned  and  swiftly  went  back  to 
the  cabin,  but  her  shoulders  were  shaking.  Presently 
the  Harvester  came  in  and  explained  that  after  finishing 
in  the  dry-house  he  had  gone  to  do  the  feeding.  Then  he 
suggested  that  before  it  grew  dark  they  should  go  through 
the  rooms  and  see  how  they  appeared,  and  gather  the 
flowers  the  Girl  wanted.  So  together  they  decided  every- 
thing was  clean,  comfortable,  and  harmonized. 

Then  they  went  to  the  hillside  sloping  to  the  lake.  For 
the  dining-room,  the  Girl  wanted  yellow  water  lilies,  so 
the  Harvester  brought  his  old  boat  and  gathered  enough 
to  fill  the  green  bowl.  For  the  living-room,  she  used  wild 
ragged  robins  in  the  blue  bowl,  and  on  one  end  of  the 
mantel  set  a  pitcher  of  saffron  and  on  the  other  arrow- 
head lilies.  For  her  room,  she  selected  big,  blushy 
mallows  that  grew  all  along  Singing  Water  and  around 
the  lake. 

"  Isn't  that  slightly  peculiar  ? "  questioned  the  Harvester. 

"Take  a  peep,"  said  the  Girl,  opening  her  door. 


332  THE  HARVESTER 

She  had  spread  the  pink  coverlet  on  her  couch,  and 
when  she  set  the  big  pink  bowl  rilled  with  mallows  on  the 
table  the  effect  was  exquisite. 

"I  think  perhaps  that's  a  little  Frenchy,"  she  said, 
"and  you  may  have  to  be  educated  to  it;  but  salmon 
pink  and  buttercup  yellow  are  colours  I  love  in  combi- 
nation." 

She  closed  the  door  and  went  to  find  something  to 
eat,  and  then  to  the  swing,  where  she  liked  to  rest,  look, 
and  listen.  The  Harvester  suggested  reading  to  her,  but 
she  shook  her  head. 

"Wait  until  winter,"  she  said,  "when  the  days  are 
longer  and  cold,  and  the  snow  buries  everything,  and 
then  read.  Now  tell  me  about  my  hedge  and  the  things 
you  have  planted  in  it." 

The  Harvester  went  out  and  collected  a  bunch  of  twigs. 
He  handed  her  a  big,  evenly  proportioned  leaf  of  ovate 
shape,  and  explained:  "This  is  burning  bush,  so  called 
because  it  has  pink  berries  that  hang  from  long,  graceful 
stems  all  winter,  and  when  fully  open  they  expose  a 
flame-red  seed  pod.  It  was  for  this  colour  on  gray  and 
white  days  that  I  planted  it.  In  the  woods  I  grow  it  in 
thickets.  The  root  bark  brings  twenty  cents  a  pound, 
at  the  very  least.     It  is  good  fever  medicine." 

"Is  it  poison?" 

"No.  I  didn't  set  anything  acutely  poisonous  in 
your  hedge.  I  wanted  it  to  be  a  mass  of  bloom  you  were 
free  to  cut  for  the  cabin  all  spring,  an  attraction  to  birds 
in  summer,  and  bright  with  colour  in  winter.     To  draw 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  333 

the  feathered  tribe,  I  planted  alder,  wild  cherry,  and 
grape-vines.  This  is  cherry.  The  bark  is  almost  as 
beautiful  as  birch.  I  raise  it  for  tonics  and  the  birds 
love  the  cherries.  This  fern-like  leaf  is  from  mountain 
ash,  and  when  it  attains  a  few  years'  growth  it  will  flame 
with  colour  all  winter  in  big  clusters  of  scarlet  berries. 
That  I  grow  in  the  woods  is  a  picture  in  snow  time,  and 
the  bark  is  one  of  my  standard  articles." 

The  Girl  raised  on  her  elbow  and  looked  at  the  hedge. 

"I  see  it,"  she  said.  "The  berries  are  green  now.  I 
suppose  they  change  colour  as  they  ripen." 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester.  "And  you  must  not  con- 
fuse them  with  sumac.  The  leaves  are  somewhat  similar, 
but  the  heads  differ  in  colour  and  shape.  The  sumac  and 
buckeye  you  must  not  touch,  until  we  learn  what  they 
will  do  to  you.  To  some  they  are  slightly  poisonous,  to 
others  not.  I  couldn't  help  putting  in  a  few  buckeyes 
on  account  of  the  big  buds  in  early  spring.  You  will 
like  the  colour  if  you  are  fond  of  pink  and  yellow  in  com- 
bination, and  the  red-brown  nuts  in  grayish-yellow, 
prickly  hulls,  and  the  leaf  clusters  are  beautiful,  but  you 
must  use  care.  I  put  in  witch  hazel  for  variety,  and  I 
like  its  appearance;  it's  mighty  good  medicine,  too;  so 
is  spice  brush,  and  it  has  leaves  that  colour  brightly,  and 
red  berries.  These  selections  were  all  made  for  a  purpose. 
Now  here  is  wafer  ash;  it  is  for  music  as  well  as  medicine. 
I  have  invoked  all  good  fairies  to  come  and  dwell  in  this 
hedge,  and  so  I  had  to  provide  an  orchestra  for  their 
dances.     This  tree  grows  a  hundred  tiny  castanets  in  a 


334  THE  HARVESTER 

bunch,  and  when  they  ripen  and  become  dry  the  wind 
shakes  fine  music  from  them.  Yes,  they  are  medicine; 
that  is,  the  bark  of  the  roots  is.  Almost  without  ex- 
ception everything  here  has  medicinal  properties.  The 
tulip  poplar  will  bear  you  the  loveliest  flowers  of  all, 
and  its  root  bark,  taken  in  winter,  makes  a  good  fever 
remedy." 

"How  would  it  do  to  eat  some  of  the  leaves  and  see 
if  they  wouldn't  take  the  feverishness  from  me?" 

"It  wouldn't  do  at  all,"  said  the  Harvester.  "We 
are  well  enough  fixed  to  allow  Doc  to  come  now,  and  he 
is  the  one  to  allay  the  fever." 

"Oh  no!"  she  cried.  "No!  I  don't  want  to  see  a 
doctor.  I  will  be  all  right  very  soon.  You  said  I  was 
better." 

"You  are,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Much  better!  We 
will  have  you  strong  and  well  soon.  You  should  have 
come  in  time  for  a  dose  of  sassafras.  Your  hedge  is 
filled  with  that,  because  of  its  peculiar  leaves  and  odour. 
I  put  in  dogwood  for  the  white  display  around  the  little 
green  bloom,  lots  of  alder  for  bloom  and  berries,  haws 
for  blossoms  and  fruit  for  the  squirrels,  wild  crab  apples 
for  the  exquisite  bloom  and  perfume,  button  bush  for  the 
buttons,  a  few  pokeberry  plants  for  the  colour,  and  I 
tried  some  mallows,  but  I  doubt  if  it's  wet  enough  for 
them.  I  set  pecks  of  vine  roots,  that  are  coming  nicely, 
and  ferns  along  the  front  edge.  Give  it  two  years  and 
that  hedge  will  make  a  picture  that  will  do  your  eyes 
good." 


THE  HARVESTER  INTERPRETS  LIFE  335 

"Can  you  think  of  anything  at  all  you  forgot?" 

"Yes  indeed!"  said  the  Harvester.  "The  woods  are 
full  of  trees  I  have  not  used;  some  because  I  overlooked 
them,  some  I  didn't  want.  A  hedge  like  this,  in  per- 
fection, is  the  work  of  years.  Some  species  must  be  cut 
back,  some  encouraged,  but  soon  it  will  be  lovely,  and 
its  colour  and  fruit  attract  every  bird  of  the  heavens 
and  butterflies  and  insects  of  all  varieties.  I  set  several 
common  cherry  trees  for  the  robins  and  some  blackberry 
and  raspberry  vines  for  the  orioles.  The  bloom  is  pretty 
and  the  birds  you'll  have  will  be  a  treat  to  see  and  hear, 
if  we  keep  away  cats,  don't  fire  guns,  scatter  food,  and 
move  quietly  among  them.  With  our  water  attractions 
added,  there  is  nothing  impossible  in  the  way  of  making 
friends  with  feathered  folk." 

"There  is  one  thing  I  don't  understand,"  said  the  Girl. 
"You  wouldn't  risk  breaking  the  wing  of  a  moth  by  keep- 
ing it  when  you  wanted  a  drawing  very  much;  you  don't 
seem  to  kill  birds  and  animals  that  other  people  do.  You 
almost  worship  a  tree;  now  how  can  you  take  a  knife 
and  peel  the  bark  to  sell  or  dig  up  beautiful  bushes  by 
the  root." 

"Perhaps  I've  talked  too  much  about  the  woods," 
said  the  Harvester  gently.  "I've  longed  inexpressibly 
for  sympathetic  company  here,  because  I  feel  rooted  for 
life,  so  I  am  more  than  anxious  that  you  should  care  for 
it.  I  may  have  made  you  feel  that  my  greatest  interest 
is  in  the  woods,  and  that  I  am  not  consistent  when  I 
call  on  my  trees  and  plants  to  yield  of  their  store  for  my 


336  THE  HARVESTER 

purposes.  Above  everything  else,  the  human  proposi- 
tion comes  first,  Ruth.  I  do  love  my  trees,  bushes, 
and  flowers,  because  they  keep  me  at  the  fountain  of  life, 
and  teach  me  lessons  no  book  ever  hints  at;  but  above 
everything  come  my  fellow  men.  All  I  do  is  for  them. 
My  heart  is  filled  with  feeling  for  the  things  you  see 
around  you  here,  but  it  would  be  joy  to  me  to  uproot 
the  most  beautiful  plant  I  have  if  by  so  doing  I  could 
save  you  pain.  Other  men  have  wives  they  love  as  well, 
little  children  they  have  fathered,  big  bodies  useful  to 
the  world,  that  are  sometimes  crippled  with  disease. 
There  is  nothing  I  would  not  give  to  allay  the  pain  of 
humanity.  It  is  not  inconsistent  to  offer  any  growing 
thing  you  soon  can  replace,  to  cure  suffering.  Get  that 
idea  out  of  your  head!  You  said  you  could  worship  at 
the  shrine  of  the  pokeberry  bed,  you  feel  holier  before 
the  arrowhead  lilies,  your  face  takes  on  an  appearance  of 
reverence  when  you  see  pink  mallow  blooms.  Which 
of  them  would  you  have  hesitated  a  second  in  uprooting 
if  you  could  have  offered  it  to  subdue  fever  or  pain  in  the 
body  of  the  little  mother  you  loved?" 

"Oh  I  see!"  cried  the  Girl.  "Like  everything  else 
you  make  this  different.  You  worship  all  this  beauty 
and  grace,  wrought  by  your  hands,  but  you  carry  your 
treasure  to  the  market  place  for  the  good  of  suffering 
humanity.     Oh  Man!     I  love  the  work  you  do!" 

"Good!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Good!  And  Ruth- 
girl,  while  you  are  about  it,  see  if  you  can't  combine  the 
man  and  his  occupation  a  little." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
Granny  Moreland's  Visit 

THE  following  morning  the  Girl  was  awakened  by 
wheels  on  the  gravel  outside  her  window,  and 
lifted  her  head  to  see  Betsy  passing  with  a  load 
of  lumber.  Shortly  afterward  the  sound  of  hammer 
and  saw  came  to  her,  and  she  knew  that  Singing  Water 
bridge  was  being  roofed  to  provide  shade  for  her.  She 
dressed  and  went  to  the  kitchen  to  find  a  dainty  breakfast 
waiting,  so  she  ate  what  she  could,  and  then  washed  the 
dishes  and  swept.  By  that  time  she  was  so  tired  she 
dropped  on  a  dining-room  window  seat,  and  lay  looking 
toward  the  bridge.  She  could  catch  glimpses  of  the 
Harvester  as  he  worked.  She  watched  his  deft  ease  in 
handling  heavy  timbers,  and  the  assurance  with  which 
he  builded.  Sometimes  he  stood  and  with  tilted  head 
studied  his  work  a  minute,  then  swiftly  proceeded.  He 
placed  three  tree  trunks  on  each  side  for  pillars,  laid 
joists  across,  formed  his  angle,  and  nailed  boards  as  a 
foundation  for  shingling.  Occasionally  he  glanced  toward 
the  cabin,  and  finally  came  swinging  up  the  drive.  He 
entered  the  kitchen  softly,  but  when  he  saw  the  Girl 
in  the  window  he  sat  at  her  feet. 

337 


338  THE  HARVESTER 

"Oh  but  this  is  a  morning,  Ruth!"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  closely.  He  radiated  health  and 
good  cheer.  His  tanned  cheeks  were  flushed  red  with 
exercise,  and  the  hair  on  his  temples  was  damp. 

"You  have  been  breaking  the  rules,"  he  said.  "It 
is  the  law  that  I  am  to  do  the  work  until  you  are  well 
and  strong  again.     Why  did  you  tire  yourself?" 

"I  am  so  perfectly  useless!  I  see  so  many  things  that 
I  would  enjoy  doing.  Oh  you  can  do  everything  else, 
make  me  well!     Make  me  strong!" 

"How  can  I,  when  you  won't  do  as  I  tell  you?" 

"I  will!     Indeed  I  will!" 

"Then  no  more  attempts  to  stand  over  dishes  and 
clean  big  floors.  You  mustn't  overwork  yourself  at  any- 
thing. The  instant  you  feel  in  the  least  tired  you  must 
lie  down  and  rest." 

"But  Man!  I'm  tired  every  minute,  with  a  dead,  dull 
ache,  and  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  ever  would  be  rested  again 
in  all  the  world." 

The  Harvester  took  one  of  her  hands,  felt  its  fevered 
palm,  fluttering  wrist  pulse,  and  noticed  that  the  brilliant 
red  of  her  lips  had  extended  to  spots  on  her  cheeks.  He 
formed  his  resolution. 

"Can't  work  on  that  bridge  any  more  until  I  drive 
in  for  some  big  nails,"  he  said.  "Do  you  mind  being 
left  alone  for  an  hour?" 

"Not  at  all,  if  Bel  will  stay  with  me.  I'll  lie  in  the 
swing." 

"All  right!"  answered  the  Harvester.     "I'll  help  you 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        339 

out  and  to  get  settled.  Is  there  anything  you  want 
from  town?" 

"No,  not  a  thing!" 

"Oh  but  you  are  modest!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "I 
can  sit  here  and  name  fifty  things  I  want  for  you." 

"Oh  but  you  are  extravagant!"  imitated  the  Girl. 
"Please,  please,  Man,  don't!  Can't  you  see  I  have  so 
much  now  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it?  Sometimes 
I  almost  forget  the  ache,  just  lying  and  looking  at  all  the 
wonderful  riches  that  have  come  to  me  so  suddenly. 
I  can't  believe  they  won't  vanish  as  they  came.  By 
the  hour  in  the  night  I  look  at  my  lovely  room,  and  I 
just  fight  my  eyes  to  keep  them  from  closing  for  fear 
they'll  open  in  that  stifling  garret  to  the  heat  of  day  and 
work  I  have  not  strength  to  do.  I  know  yet  all  this  will 
prove  to  be  a  dream  and  a  wilder  one  than  yours." 

The  face  of  the  Harvester  was  very  anxious. 

"Please  to  remember  my  dream  came  true,"  he  said, 
"and  much  sooner  than  I  had  the  least  hope  that  it  would. 
I'm  wide  awake  or  I  couldn't  be  building  bridges;  and 
you  are  real,  if  I  know  flesh  and  blood  when  I  touch 
it." 

"  If  I  were  well,  strong,  and  attractive,  I  could  under- 
stand," she  said.  "Then  I  could  work  in  the  house,  at 
the  drawings,  help  with  the  herbs,  and  I'd  feel  as  if  I 
had  some  right  to  be  here." 

"All  that  is  coming,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Take 
a  little  more  time.  You  can't  expect  to  sin  steadily 
against  the  laws  of  health  for  years,   and  recover  in  a 


34o  THE  HARVESTER 

day.  You  will  be  all  right  much  sooner  than  you  think 
possible." 

"Oh  I  hope  so!"  said  the  Girl.  "But  sometimes  I 
doubt  it.  How  I  could  come  here  and  put  such  a  burden 
on  a  stranger,  I  can't  see.  I  scarcely  can  remember  what 
awful  stress  drove  me.  I  had  no  courage.  I  should 
have  finished  in  my  garret  as  my  mother  did.  I  must 
have  some  of  my  father's  coward  blood  in  me.  She 
never  would  have  come.     I  never  should!" 

"If  it  didn't  make  any  real  difference  to  you,  and  meant 
all  the  world  to  me,  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  humour 
me.  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  how  happy  I  am  to  have 
you  here.     I  could  shout  and  sing  all  day." 

"It  requires  very  little  to  make  some  people  happy." 

"You  are  not  much,  but  you  are  going  to  be  more 
soon,"  laughed  the  Harvester,  as  he  gently  picked  up 
the  Girl  and  carried  her  to  the  swing,  where  he  covered 
her,  kissed  her  hot  hand,  and  whistled  for  Belshazzar. 
He  pulled  the  table  close  and  set  a  pitcher  of  iced  fruit 
juice  on  it.  Then  he  left  her  and  she  could  hear  the  rattle 
of  wheels  as  he  crossed  the  bridge  and  drove  away. 

"Betsy,  this  is  mighty  serious  business,"  said  the  Har- 
vester.    "The  Girl  is  scorching  or  I  don't  know  fever. 

I  wonder  —  well,  one  thing  is  sure she  is  bound  to 

be  better  off  in  pure,  cool  air  and  with  everything  I  can 
do  to  be  kind,  than  in  Henry  Jameson's  attic  with  every- 
thing he  could  do  to  be  mean.  Pleasant  men  those 
Jamesons!  Wonder  if  the  Girl's  father  was  much  like 
her  Uncle  Henry?     I  think  not  or  her  refined  and  lovely 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT         341 

mother  never  would  have  married  him.  Come  to  think 
of  it,  that's  no  law,  Betsy.  I've  seen  beautiful  and 
delicate  women  fall  under  some  mysterious  spell,  and 
yoke  their  lives  with  rank  degenerates.  Whatever  he 
was,  they  have  paid  the  price.  Maybe  the  wife  deserved 
it,  and  bore  it  in  silence  because  she  knew  she  did,  but 
it's  bitter  hard  on  Ruth.  Girls  should  be  taught  to  think 
at  least  one  generation  ahead  when  they  marry.  I 
wonder  what  Doc  will  say,  Betsy?  He  will  have  to  come 
and  see  for  himself.  I  don't  know  how  she  will  feel  about 
that.  I  had  hoped  I  could  pull  her  through  with  care, 
food,  and  tonics,  but  I  don't  dare  go  any  farther  alone. 
Betsy,  that's  a  thin,  hot,  little  hand  to  hold  a  man's 
only  chance  for  happiness." 

"Well,  bridegroom!  I've  been  counting  the  days!" 
said  Doctor  Carey.  "The  Missus  and  I  made  it  up  this 
morning  that  we  had  waited  as  long  as  we  would.  We 
are  coming  to-night.     David " 

"It's  all  right,  Doc,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Don't 
you  dare  think  anything  is  wrong  or  that  I  am  not  the 
proudest,  happiest  man  in  this  world,  because  I  appear 
anxious.  I  am  not  trying  to  conceal  it  from  you.  You 
know  we  both  agreed  at  first  that  Ruth  should  be  in  the 
hospital,  Doc.  Well,  she  should!  She  is  what  would 
be  a  lovely  woman  if  she  were  not  full  of  the  poison  of 
wrong  food  and  air,  overwork,  and  social  conditions  that 
have  warped  her.  She  is  all  I  dreamed  of  and  more, 
but  I've  come  for  you.  She  is  too  sick  for  me.  I  hoped 
she  would   begin  to  gain  strength   at  once  on  changed 


342  THE  HARVESTER 

conditions.  As  yet  I  can't  see  any  difference.  She  needs 
a  doctor,  but  I  hate  for  her  to  know  it.  Could  you  come 
out  this  afternoon,  and  pretend  as  if  it  were  a  visit. 
Bring  Mrs.  Carey  and  watch  the  Girl.  If  you  need  an 
examination,  I  think  she  will  obey  me.  If  you  can  avoid 
it,  fix  what  she  should  have  and  send  it  back  to  me 
by  a  messenger.  I  don't  like  to  leave  her  when  she  is 
so  ill." 

"I'll  come  at  once,  David." 

"Then  she  will  know  that  I  came  for  you,  and  that 
will  frighten  her.  You  can  do  more  good  to  wait  until 
afternoon,  and  pretend  you  are  making  a  social  call. 
I  must  go  now.  I'd  have  brought  her  in,  but  I  have  no 
proper  conveyance  yet.  I'm  promised  something  soon, 
perhaps  it  is  ready  now.     Good-bye!     Be  sure  to  come!" 

The  Harvester  drove  to  a  livery  barn  and  examined  a 
little  horse,  a  shining  black  creature  that  seemed  gentle 
and  spirited.  He  thought  favourably  of  it.  A  few  days 
before  he  had  selected  a  smart  carriage,  and  with  this 
outfit  tied  behind  the  wagon  he  returned  to  Medicine 
Woods.  He  left  the  horse  at  the  bridge,  stabled  Betsy, 
and  then  returned  for  the  new  conveyance,  driving  it 
to  the  hitching  post.  At  the  sound  of  unexpected  wheels 
the  Girl  lifted  her  head  and  stared  at  the  turnout. 

"Come  on!"  cried  the  Harvester  opening  the  screen. 
"We  are  going  to  the  woods  to  initiate  your  carriage." 

She  went  with  little  cries  of  surprised  wonder. 

"This  is  how  you  travel  to  Onabasha  to  do  your  shop- 
ping,  to   call  on  Mrs.   Carey   and   the  friends   you   will 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        343 

make,  and  visit  the  library.  When  I've  tried  out  Mr. 
Horse  enough  to  prove  him  reliable  as  guaranteed,  he 
is  yours,  for  your  purposes  only,  and  when  you  grow 
wonderfully  well  and  strong,  we'll  sell  him  and  buy  you  a 
real  live  horse  and  a  stanhope,  such  as  city  ladies  have; 
and  there  must  be  a  saddle  so  that  you  can  ride." 

"Oh  I'd  love  that!"  cried  the  Girl.  "I  always  wanted 
to  ride!     Where  are  we  going?" 

"To  show  you  Medicine  Woods,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"I've  been  waiting  for  this.  You  see  there  are  several 
hundred  acres  of  trees,  thickets,  shrubs,  and  herb  beds 
up  there,  and  if  the  wagon  road  that  winds  between 
them  were  stretched  straight  it  would  be  many  miles  in 
length,  so  we  have  a  cool,  shaded,  perfumed  driveway 
all  our  own.  Let  me  get  you  a  drink  before  you  start 
and  the  little  shawl.  It's  chilly  there  compared  with 
here.     Now  are  you  comfortable  and  ready?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Girl.  "Hurry!  I've  just  longed 
to  go,  but  I  didn't  like  to  ask." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Living  here  for 
years  alone  and  never  having  had  a  sister,  how  am  I 
going  to  know  what  a  girl  would  like  if  you  don't  tell 
me?  I  knew  it  would  be  too  tiresome  for  you  to  walk, 
and  I  was  waiting  to  find  a  reliable  horse  and  a  suitable 
carriage." 

"You  won't  scratch  or  spoil  it  up  there?" 

"I'll  lower  the  top.  It  is  not  as  wide  as  the  wagon, 
so  nothing  will  touch  it." 

"This  is  just  so  lovely,  and  such  a  wonderful  treat,  do 


344  THE  HARVESTER 

you  observe  that  I'm  not  saying  a  word  about  extrav- 
agance?" asked  the  Girl,  as  she  leaned  back  in  the  carriage 
and  inhaled  the  invigorating  wood  air. 

The  horse  climbed  the  hill,  and  the  Harvester  guided 
him  down  long,  dim  roads  through  deep  forest,  while 
he  explained  what  large  thickets  of  bushes  were,  why  he 
grew  them,  how  he  collected  the  roots  or  bark,  for  what 
each  was  used  and  its  value.  On  and  on  they  went, 
the  way  ahead  always  appearing  as  if  it  were  too  narrow 
to  pass,  yet  proving  amply  wide  when  reached.  Ex- 
cited redbirds  darted  among  the  bushes,  and  the  Harves- 
ter answered  their  cry.  Blackbirds  protested  against 
the  unusual  intrusion  of  strange  objects,  and  a  brown 
thrush  slipped  from  a  late  nest  close  the  road  wailing  in 
anxiety. 

One  after  another  the  Harvester  introduced  the  Girl 
to  the  best  trees,  speculated  on  their  age,  previous  his- 
tory, and  pointed  out  which  brought  large  prices  for 
lumber  and  which  had  medicinal  bark  and  roots.  On 
and  on  they  slowly  drove  through  the  woods,  past  the 
big  beds  of  cranesbill,  violets,  and  lilies.  He  showed  her 
where  the  mushrooms  were  most  numerous,  and  for  the 
first  time  told  the  story  of  how  he  had  sold  them  and  the 
violets  from  door  to  door  in  Onabasha  in  his  search  for 
her,  and  the  amazed  Girl  sat  staring  at  him.  He  told 
of  Doctor  Carey  having  seen  her  once,  and  inquired 
as  they  passed  the  bed  if  the  yellow  violets  had  revived. 
He  stopped  to  search  and  found  a  few  late  ones,  deep 
among  the  Leaves. 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        345 

"  Oh  if  I  only  had  known  that ! "  cried  the  Girl,  "  I  would 
have  kept  them  forever." 

"No  need,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Here  and  now  I 
present  you  with  the  sole  ownership  of  the  entire  white 
and  yellow  violet  beds.  Next  spring  you  shall  fill  your 
room.     Won't  that  be  a  treat?" 

"One  money  never  could  buy!"  cried  the  Girl. 

"Seems  to  be  my  strong  point,"  commented  the  Har- 
vester. "The  most  I  have  to  offer  worth  while  is  some- 
thing you  can't  buy.  There  is  a  fine  fairy  platform. 
They  can  spare  you  one.     I'll  get  it." 

The  Harvester  broke  from  a  tree  a  large  fan-shaped 
fungus,  the  surface  satin  fine,  the  base  mossy,  and  ex- 
plained to  the  Girl  that  these  were  the  ballrooms  of  the 
woods,  the  floors  on  which  the  little  people  dance  in 
the  moonlight  at  their  great  celebrations.  Then  he 
added  a  piece  of  woolly  dog  moss,  and  showed  her  how 
each  separate  spine  was  like  a  perfect  little  evergreen 
tree. 

"That  is  where  the  fairies  get  their  Christmas  pines," 
he  explained. 

"Do  you  honestly  believe  in  fairies?" 

"Surely I"  exclaimed  the  Harvester.  "Who  would 
tell  me  when  the  maples  are  dripping  sap,  and  the  mush- 
rooms springing  up,  if  the  fairies  didn't  whisper  in  the 
night?  Who  paints  the  flower  faces,  colours  the  leaves, 
enamels  the  ripening  fruit  with  bloom,  and  frosts  the 
window  pane  to  let  me  know  that  it  is  time  to  prepare 
for    winter?     Of    course!      They    are    my    friends    and 


346  THE  HARVESTER 

everyday  helpers.  And  the  winds  are  good  to  me. 
They  carry  down  news  when  tree  bloom  is  out,  when 
the  pollen  sifts  gold  from  the  bushes,  and  it's  time  to 
collect  spring  roots.  The  first  bluebird  always  brings 
me  a  message.  Sometimes  he  comes  by  the  middle  of 
February,  again  not  until  late  March.  Always  on  his 
day,  Belshazzar  decides  my  fate  for  a  year.  Six  years 
we've  played  that  game;  now  it  is  ended  in  blessed  reality. 
In  the  woods  and  at  my  work  I  remain  until  I  die,  with 
a  few  outside  tries  at  medicine  making.  I  am  putting 
up  some  compounds  in  which  I  really  have  faith.  Of 
course  they  have  got  to  await  their  time  to  be  tested,  but 
I  believe  in  them.  I  have  grown  stuff  so  carefully, 
gathered  it  according  to  rules,  washed  it  decently,  and 
dried  and  mixed  it  with  such  scrupulous  care.  Night 
after  night  I've  sat  over  the  books  until  midnight  and 
later,  studying  combinations;  and  day  after  day  I've 
stood  in  the  laboratory  testing  and  trying,  and  two  or  three 
will  prove  effective,  or  I've  a  disappointment  coming." 

"'You  haven't  wasted  time!  I'd  much  rather  take 
medicines  you  make  than  any  at  the  pharmacies.  Several 
times  I've  thought  I'd  ask  you  if  you  wouldn't  give  me 
some  of  yours.  The  prescription  Doctor  Carey  sent 
does  no  good.  I've  almost  drunk  it,  and  I  am  constantly 
tired,  just  the  same.  You  make  me  something  from 
these  tonics  and  stimulants  you've  been  telling  me  about. 
Surely  you  can  help  me!" 

"I've  got  one  combination  that's  going  to  save  life, 
in  my  expectations.     But  Ruth,  it  never  has  been  tried, 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        347 

and  I  couldn't  experiment  on  the  very  light  of  my  eyes 
with  it.  If  I  should  give  you  something  and  you'd 
grow  worse  as  a  result  —  I  am  a  strong  man,  my  girl, 
but  I  couldn't  endure  that.  I'd  never  dare.  But 
dear,  I  am  expecting  Carey  and  his  wife  out  any  time; 
probably  they  will  come  to-day,  it's  so  beautiful;  and 
when  they  do,  for  my  sake,  won't  you  talk  with  him,  tell 
him  exactly  what  made  you  ill,  and  take  what  he  gives 
you?  He's  a  great  man.  He  was  recently  President 
of  the  National  Association  of  Surgeons.  Long  ago  he 
abandoned  general  practice,  but  he  will  prescribe  for  you; 
all  his  art  is  at  your  command.  It's  quite  an  honour, 
Ruth.  He  performs  all  kinds  of  miracles,  and  saves 
life  every  day.  He  had  not  seen  you,  and  what  he  gave 
me  was  only  by  guess.  He  may  not  think  it  is  the  right 
thing  at  all  after  he  meets  you." 

"Then  I  am  really  ill?" 

"No.  You  only  have  the  germs  of  illness  in  your  blood, 
and  if  you  will  help  me  that  much  we  can  eliminate 
them;  and  then  it  is  you  for  housekeeper,  with  first  assist- 
ant in  me,  the  drawing  tools,  paint  box,  and  all  the  woods 
for  subjects.  So,  as  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  Belshazzar 
and  I  have  played  our  game  for  the  last  time.  That 
decision  was  ultimate.  Here  I  will  work,  live,  and  die. 
Here,  please  God,  strong  and  happy,  you  shall  live  with 
me.  Ruth,  you  have  got  to  recover  quickly.  You  will 
consult  the  doctor?" 

"Yes,  and  I  wish  he  would  hurry,"  said  the  Girl. 
"He  can't  make  me  new  too  soon  to  suit  me.     If  I  had 


348  THE  HARVESTER 

a  strong  body,  oh  Alan,  I  just  feel  as  if  you  could  find  a 
soul  somewhere  in  it  that  would  respond  to  all  these  won- 
ders you  have  brought  me  among.  Oh!  make  me  well, 
and  I'll  try  as  woman  never  did  before  to  bring  you  hap- 
piness to  pay  for  it." 

"Careful  now,"  warned  the  Harvester.  "There  is 
to  be  no  talk  of  obligations  between  you  and  me. 
Your  presence  here  and  your  growing  trust  in  me  are  all 
I  ask  at  the  hands  of  fate  at  present.     Long  ago  I  learned 

to   'labour   and   to  wait.'     By   the   way here's   my 

most  difficult  labour  and  my  longest  wait.     This  is  the 
precious  gingseng  bed." 

"How  pretty!"  exclaimed  the  Girl. 
Covering  acres  of  wood  floor,  among  the  big  trees, 
stretched  the  lacy  green  carpet.  On  slender,  upright 
stalks  waved  three  large  leaves,  each  made  up  of  five 
stemmed,  ovate  little  leaves,  round  at  the  base,  sharply 
pointed  at  the  tip.  A  cluster  of  from  ten  to  twenty  small 
green  berries,  that  would  turn  red  later,  arose  above. 
The  Harvester  lifted  a  plant  to  show  the  Girl  that  the 
Chinese  name,  Jin-chen,  meaning  man-like,  originated 
because  the  divided  root  resembled  legs.  Away  through 
the  woods  stretched  the  big  bed,  the  growth  waving 
lightly  in  the  wind,  the  peculiar  odour  filling  the  air. 

"I  am  going  to  wait  to  gather  the  crop  until  the  seeds 
are  ripe,"  said  the  Harvester,  "then  bury  some  as  I 
dig  a  root.  My  father  said  that  was  the  way  of  the 
Indians.  It's  a  mighty  good  plan.  The  seeds  are 
delicate,   and  difficult  to  gather  and  preserve  properly. 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT         349 

Instead  of  collecting  and  selling  all  of  them  to  start  rivals 
in  the  business,  I  shall  replant  my  beds.  I  must  find 
a  half  dozen  assistants  to  harvest  this  crop  in  that  way, 
and  it  will  be  difficult,  because  it  will  come  when  my 
neighbours  are  busy  with  corn." 

"Maybe  I  can  help  you." 

"Not  with  ginseng  digging,"  laughed  the  Harvester. 
"That  is  not  woman's  work.  You  may  sit  in  an  espe- 
cially attractive  place  and  boss  the  job." 

"Oh  dear!"  cried  the  Girl.  "Oh  dear!  I  want  to 
get  out  and  walk." 

Gradually  they  had  climbed  the  summit  of  the  hill, 
descended  on  the  other  side,  and  followed  the  road  through 
the  woods  until  they  reached  the  brier  patches,  fruit 
trees,  and  the  garden  of  vegetables,  with  big  beds  of  sage, 
rue,  wormwood,  hoarhound,  and  boneset.  From  there 
to  the  lake  sloped  the  sunny  fields  of  mullein  and  catnip, 
and  the  earth  was  molten  gold  with  dandelion  creeping 
everywhere. 

"Too  hot  to-day,"  cautioned  the  Harvester.  "Too 
rough  walking.  Wait  until  fall,  and  I  have  a  treat 
there  for  you.  Another  flower  I  want  you  to  love  be- 
cause I  do." 

"I  will,"  said  the  Girl  promptly.  "I  feel  it  in  my 
heart." 

"Well  I  am  glad  you  feel  something  besides  the  ache 
of  fever,"  said  the  Harvester.  Then  noticing  her  tired 
face  he  added:  "Now  this  little  horse  had  quite  a  trip 
from  town,  and  the  wheels  cut  deeply  into  this  woods 


3  So  THE  HARVESTER 

soil  and  make  difficult  pulling,  so  I  wonder  if  I  had  not 
better  put  him  in  the  stable  and  let  him  become  ac- 
quainted with  Betsy.  I  don't  know  what  she  will  think. 
She  has  had  sole  possession  for  years.  Maybe  she  will  be 
jealous;  perhaps  she  will  be  as  delighted  for  company 
as  her  master.  Ruth,  if  you  could  have  heard  what 
I  said  to  Belshazzar  when  he  decided  I  was  to  go  court- 
ing this  year,  and  seen  what  I  did  to  him,  and  then  take 

a    look    at    me    now merciful    powers,    I    hope    the 

dog  doesn't  remember!  If  he  does,  no  wonder  he  forms  a 
new  allegiance  so  easily.  Have  you  observed  that  lately, 
when  I  whistle,  he  starts,  and  then  turns  back  to  see  if 
you  want  him?  He  thinks  as  much  of  you  as  he  does  of 
me  right  now." 

"Oh  no!"  cried  the  Girl.  "That  couldn't  be  possible. 
You  told  me  I  must  make  friends  with  him,  so  I  have 
given  him  food,  and  tried  to  win  him." 

"You  sit  in  the  carriage  until  I  put  away  the  horse, 
and  then  I'll  help  you  to  the  cabin,  and  save  you  being 
alone  while  I  work.     Would  you  like  that?" 
"Yes." 

She  leaned  her  head  against  the  carriage  top  the 
Harvester  had  raised  to  screen  her,  and  watched  him 
stable  the  horse.  Evidently  he  was  very  fond  of  animals, 
for  he  talked  as  if  it  were  a  child  he  was  undressing  and 
kept  giving  it  extra  strokes  and  pats  as  he  led  it  away. 
Ajax  disliked  the  newcomer  instantly,  noticed  the  car- 
riage and  the  woman's  dress,  and  screamed  his  ugliest. 
The   Girl    smiled.     As   the   Harvester   appeared   she   in- 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        351 

quired,  "Is  Ajax  now  sending  a  wireless  to  Ceylon  asking 
for  a  mate?" 

The  Harvester  looked  at  her  quizzically  and  saw  a 
gleam  of  mischief  in  the  usually  dull  dark  eyes  that 
delighted    him. 

"That  is  the  customary  supposition  when  he  finds 
voice,"  he  said.  "But  since  this  has  become  your  home, 
you  are  bound  to  learn  some  of  my  secrets.  One  of  them 
I  try  to  guard  is  the  fact  that  Ajax  has  a  temper.  No 
my  dear,  he  is  not  always  sending  a  wireless,  I  am  sorry 
to  say.  I  wish  he  was!  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  is  venting 
his  displeasure  at  any  difference  in  our  conditions.  He 
hates  change.  He  learned  that  from  me.  I  will  enjoy 
seeing  him  come  for  favour  a  year  from  now,  as  I  learned 
to  come  for  it,  even  when  I  didn't  get  much,  and  the  road 
lay  west  of  Onabasha.  Ajax,  stop  that!  There's  no 
use  to  object.  You  know  you  think  that  horse  is  nice 
company  for  you,  and  that  two  can  feed  you  more  than 
one.  Don't  be  a  hypocrite!  Cease  crying  things  you 
don't  mean,  and  learn  to  love  the  people  I  do.  Come 
on,  old  boy!" 

The  peacock  came,  but  with  feathers  closely  pressed 
and  stepping  daintily.  As  the  bird  advanced,  the  Har- 
vester retreated,  until  he  stood  beside  the  Girl,  and  then 
he  slipped  some  grain  to  her  hand  and  she  offered  it. 
But  Ajax  would  not  be  coaxed.  He  was  too  fat  and  well 
fed.  He  haughtily  turned  and  marched  away,  screaming 
at  intervals. 

"Nasty  temper!"  commented  the  Harvester.  "Never 


352  THE  HARVESTER 

mind!  He  soon  will  become  accustomed  to  you,  and  then 
he  will  love  you  as  Belshazzar  does.  Feed  the  doves 
instead.  They  are  friendly  enough  in  all  conscience. 
Do  you  notice  that  there  is  not  a  coloured  feather  among 
them?  The  squab  that  is  hatched  with  one  you  may 
have  for  breakfast.  Now  let's  go  find  something  to  eat, 
and  I  will  finish  the  bridge  so  you  can  rest  there  to-night 
and  watch  the  sun  set  on  Singing  Water." 

So  they  went  into  the  cabin  and  prepared  food,  and 
then  the  Harvester  told  the  Girl  to  make  herself  so  pretty 
that  she  would  be  a  picture  and  come  and  talk  to  him 
while  he  finished  the  roof.  She  went  to  her  room,  found 
a  pale  lavender  linen  dress  and  put  it  on,  dusted  the 
pink  powder  thickly,  and  went  where  a  wide  bench  made 
an  inviting  place  in  the  shade.  There  she  sat  and 
watched  her  lightly  expressed  whim  take  shape. 

"Soon  as  this  is  finished,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  am 
going  to  begin  on  that  tea  table.  I  can  make  it  in  a 
little  while,  if  you  want  it  to  match  the  other  furniture." 

"I  do,"  said  the  Girl. 

"Wonder  if  you  could  draw  a  plan  showing  how  it 
should  appear.     I  am  a  little  shy  on  tea  tables." 

"I  think  I  can." 

The  Harvester  brought  paper,  pencil,  and  a  shingle 
for  a  drawing  pad. 

"Now  remember  one  thing,"  he  said.  "If  you  are 
in  earnest  about  using  those  old  blue  dishes,  this  has 
got  to  be  a  big,  healthy  table.  A  little  one  will  appear 
top  heavy  with  them.     It  would  be  a  good  idea  to  set 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        353 

out  what  you  want  to  use,  arranged  as  you  would  like 
them,  and  let  me  take  the  top  measurement  that  way." 

"All  right!  I'll  only  indicate  how  its  legs  should  be 
and  we  will  find  the  size  later.  I  could  almost  weep 
because  that  wonderful  set  is  broken.  If  I  had  all  of 
it  I'd  be  so  proud!'' 

The  Girl  bent  over  the  drawing.  The  Harvester 
worked  with  his  attention  divided  between  her,  the  bridge, 
and  the  road.  At  last  he  saw  the  big  red  car  creeping  up 
the  valley. 

"Seems  to  be  some  one  coming,  Ruth!  Guess  it  must 
be  Doc.     I'll  go  open  the  gate?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Girl.  "I'm  so  glad.  You  won't  for- 
get to  ask  him  to  help  me  if  he  can  ? " 

The  Harvester  wheeled  hastily.  "I  won't  forget!" 
he  said,  as  he  hurried  to  the  gate.  The  car  ran  slowly, 
and  the  Girl  could  see  him  swing  to  the  step  and  stand 
talking  as  they  advanced.  When  they  reached  her  they 
stopped  and  all  of  them  came  forward.  She  went  to 
meet  them.  She  shook  hands  with  Mrs.  Carey  and 
then  with  the  doctor. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,"  she  said. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  lonesome  already,"  laughed  the 
doctor. 

"I  don't  think  any  one  with  brains  to  appreciate  half 
of  this  ever  could  become  lonely  here,"  answered  the 
Girl.     "No,  it  isn't  that." 

"A-ha!"  cried  the  doctor,  turning  to  his  wife.  "You 
see  that  the  beautiful  young  lady  remembers  me,  and  has 


354  THE  HARVESTER 

been  wishing  I  would  come.  I  always  said  you  didn't 
half  appreciate  me.  What  a  place  you  are  making, 
David!     I'll  run  the  car  to  the  shade  and  join  you." 

For  a  long  time  they  talked  under  the  trees,  then  they 
went  to  see  the  new  home  and  all  its  furnishings. 

"Now  this  is  what  I  call  comfort,"  said  the  doctor. 
"David,  build  us  a  house  exactly  similar  to  this  over 
there  on  the  hill,  and  let  us  live  out  here  also.  I'd  love 
it.     Would  you,  Clara?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  never  lived  in  the  country.  One 
thing  is  sure:  If  I  tried  it,  I'd  prefer  this  to  any  other 
place  I  ever  saw.  David,  won't  you  take  me  far  enough 
up  the  hill  that  I  can  look  from  the  top  to  the  lake?" 

"Certainly,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Excuse  us  a  little 
while,  Ruth!" 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone  the  Girl  turned  to  the 
doctor. 

"Doctor  Carey,  David  says  you  are  great.  Won't 
you  exercise  your  art  on  me.  I  am  not  at  all  well,  and 
oh!  I'd  so  love  to  be  strong  and  sound." 

"Will  you  tell  me,"  asked  the  doctor,  "just  enough  to 
show  me  what  caused  the  trouble?" 

"Bad  air  and  water,  poor  light  and  food  at  irregular 
times,  overwork  and  deep  sorrow;  every  wrong  condition 
of  life  you  could  imagine,  with  not  a  ray  of  hope  in  the 
distance,  until  now.  For  the  sake  of  the  Harvester,  I 
would  be  well  again.     Please,  please  try  to  cure  me!" 

So  they  talked  until  the  doctor  thought  he  knew  all  he 
desired,  and  then  they  went  to  see  the  gold  flower  garden, 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        355 

"I  call  this  simply  superb,"  said  he,  taking  a  seat 
beneath  the  tree  roof  of  her  porch.  "Young  woman,  I 
don't  know  what  I'll  do  to  you  if  you  don't  speedily  grow 
strong  here.  This  is  the  prettiest  place  I  ever  saw, 
and  listen  to  the  music  of  that  bubbling,  gurgling  little 
creek!" 

"Isn't  he  wonderful?"  asked  the  Girl,  looking  up  the 
hill,  where  the  tall  form  of  the  Harvester  could  be  seen 
moving  around.  "Just  to  see  him,  you  would  think 
him  the  essence  of  manly  strength  and  force.  And  he  is ! 
So  strong!  Into  the  lake  at  all  hours,  at  the  dry-house, 
on  the  hill,  grubbing  roots,  lifting  big  pillars  to  support  a 
bridge  roof,  and  with  it  all  a  fancy  as  delicate  as  any 
dreaming  girl.  Doctor,  the  fairies  paint  the  flowers, 
colour  the  fruit,  and  frost  the  windows  for  him;  and  the 
winds  carry  pollen  to  tell  him  when  his  growing  things 
are  ready  for  the  dry-house.  I  don't  suppose  I  can  tell 
you  anything  new  about  him;  but  isn't  he  a  perpetual 
surprise?  Never  like  any  one  else!  And  no  matter  how 
he  startles  me  in  the  beginning,  he  always  ends  by  con- 
vincing me,  at  least,  that  he  is  right." 

"I  never  loved  any  other  man  as  I  do  him,"  said  the 
doctor.  "I  ushered  him  into  the  world  when  I  was  a 
young  man  just  beginning  to  practise,  and  I've  known 
him  ever  since.  I  know  few  men  so  scrupulously  clean. 
Try  to  get  well  and  make  him  happy,  Mrs.  Langston. 
He  so  deserves  it." 

"You  may  be  sure  I  will,"  answered  the  Girl. 

After  the  visitors  had  gone,  the  Harvester  told  her  to 


356  THE  HARVESTER 

place  the  old  blue  dishes  as  she  would  like  to  arrange 
them  on  her  table,  so  he  could  get  a  correct  idea  of  the 
size,  and  he  left  to  put  a  few  finishing  strokes  on  the 
bridge  cover.  She  went  into  the  dining-room  and  opened 
the  china  closet.  She  knew  from  her  peep  in  the  work- 
room that  there  would  be  more  pieces  than  she  had  seen 
before,  but  she  did  not  think  or  hope  that  a  full  half  dozen 
tea  set  and  plates,  bowl,  platter,  and  pitcher  would  be 
waiting  for  her. 

"Why  Ruth,  what  made  you  tire  yourself  to  come 
down?     I  intended  to  return  in  a  few  minutes." 

"Oh  Man!"  cried  the  laughing  Girl,  as  she  clung 
pantingly  to  a  bridge  pillar  for  support,  "I  just  had  to 
come  to  tell  you.  There  are  fairies!  Really  truly  ones! 
They  have  found  the  remainder  of  the  willow  dishes  for 
me,  and  now  there  are  so  many  it  isn't  going  to  be  a  table 
at  all.  It  must  be  a  little  cupboard  especially  for  them, 
in  that  space  between  the  mantel  and  the  bookcase. 
There  should  be  a  shining  brass  tea  canister,  and  a  wafer 
box  like  the  arts  people  make,  and  I'll  pour  tea  and  tend 
the' chafing  dish  and  you  can  toast  the  bread  with  a  long 
fork  over  the  coals,  and  we  will  have  suppers  on  the 
living-room  table,  and  it  will  be  such  fun." 

"Be  seated!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Ruth,  that's  the 
longest  speech  I  ever  heard  you  make,  and  it  sounded, 
praise  the  Lord,  like  a  girl.  Did  Doc  say  he  would  fix 
something  for  you?" 

"Yes,  such  a  lot  of  things!  I  am  going  to  shut  my  eyes 
and  open  my  mouth  and  swallow  all  of  them.     I'm  going 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        357 

to  be  born  again  and  forget  all  I  ever  knew  before  I  came 
here,  and  soon  I  will  be  tagging  you  everywhere,  begging 
you  to  suggest  designs  for  my  pencil,  and  I'll  simply 
force  life  to  come  right  for  you." 

The  Harvester  smiled. 

" Sounds  good!"  he  said.  "But,  Ruth,  I'm  a  little 
dubious  about  force  work.  Life  won't  come  right  for 
me  unless  you  learn  to  love  me,  and  love  is  a  stubborn, 
contrary  bulldog  element  of  our  nature  that  won't  be 
driven  an  inch.  It  wanders  as  the  wind,  and  strikes 
us  as  it  will.  You'll  arrive  at  what  I  hope  for  much 
sooner  if  you  forget  it  and  amuse  yourself  and  be  as 
happy  as  you  can.  Then,  perhaps  all  unknown  to  you, 
a  little  spark  of  tenderness  for  me  will  light  in  your  breast; 
and  if  it  ever  does  we  will  buy  a  fanning  mill  and  put  it 
in  operation,  and  we'll  raise  a  flame  or  know  why." 

"And  there  won't  be  any  force  in  that?" 

"What  you  can't  compel  is  the  start.  It's  all  right  to 
push  any  growth  after  you  have  something  to  work  on." 

"That  reminds  me,"  said  the  Girl,  "there  is  a  question 
I  want  to  ask  you." 

"Go  ahead!"  said  the  Harvester,  glancing  at  her  as  he 
hewed  a  joist. 

She  turned  away  her  face  and  sat  looking  across  the 
lake  for  a  long  time. 

"Is  it  a  difficult  question,  Ruth?"  inquired  the  Harves- 
ter to  help  her. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Girl.  "I  don't  know  how  to  make 
you  see." 


358  THE  HARVESTER 

"Take  any  kind  of  a  plunge.     I'm  not  usually  dense." 

"It    is    really    quite    simple    after    all.     It's    about    a 

girl a  girl  I  knew  very  well  in  Chicago.     She  had  a 

problem and  it  worried  her  dreadfully,  and  I  just 

wondered  what  you  would  think  of  it." 

The  Harvester  shifted  his  position  so  that  he  could 
watch  the  side  of  the  averted  face. 

"You'll  have  to  tell  me,  before  I  can  tell  you,"  he 
suggested. 

"She  was  a  girl  who  never  had  anything  from  life  but 
work  and  worry.  Of  course,  that's  the  only  kind  I'd 
know!  One  day  when  the  work  was  most  difficult,  and 
worry  cut  deepest,  and  she  really  thought  she  was  losing 
her  mind,  a  man  came  by  and  helped  her.  He  lifted  her 
out,  and  rescued  all  that  was  possible  for  a  man  to  save 
to  her  in  honour,  and  went  his  way.  There  wasn't  any- 
thing more.  Probably  there  never  would  be.  His  heart 
v/as  great,  and  he  stooped  and  pitied  her  gently  and 
passed  on.  After  a  time  another  man  came  by  a  good 
and  noble  man,  and  he  offered  her  love  so  wonderful  she 
hadn't  brains  to  comprehend  how  or  why  it  was." 

The  Girl's  voice  trailed  off  as  if  she  were  too  weary  to 
speak  further,  while  she  leaned  her  head  against  a  pillar 
and  gazed  with  dull  eyes  across  the  lake. 

"And  your  question,"  suggested  the  Harvester  at 
last. 

She  roused  herself.     "Oh,  the  question!  Why  this 

if  in  time,  and  after  she  had  tried  and  tried,  love  to  equal 
his  simply  would  not  come would would  she  be 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        359 

wrong  to  pretend  she  cared,  and  do  the  very  best  she  could, 
and  hope  for  real  love  some  day?  Oh  David,  would 
she?" 

The  Harvester's  face  was  whiter  than  the  Girl's.  He 
pounded  the  chisel  into  the  joist  savagely. 

"Would  she,  David?" 

"Let  me  understand  you  clearly,"  said  the  man  in  a 
dry,  breathless  voice.  "Did  she  love  this  first  man  to 
whom  she  came  under  obligations?" 

The  Girl  sat  gazing  across  the  lake  and  the  tortured 
Harvester  stared  at  her. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  don't  know 
whether  she  knew  what  love  was  or  ever  could.  She 
never  before  had  known  a  man;  her  heart  was  as  unde- 
veloped and  starved  as  her  body.  I  don't  think  she  real- 
ized love,  but  there  was  a  something.  Every  time  she 
would  feel  most  grateful  and  long  for  the  love  that  was 
offered  her,  that  'something'  would  awake  and  hurt  her 
almost  beyond  endurance.  Yet  she  knew  he  never  would 
come.  She  knew  he  did  not  care  for  her.  I  don't  know 
that  she  felt  she  wanted  him,  but  she  was  under  such 
obligations  to  him  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  must  wait  to 
see  if  he  might  not  possibly  come,  and  if  he  did  she 
should  be  free." 

"If  he  came,  she  preferred  him?" 

"There  was  a  debt  she  had  to  pay if  he  asked  it. 

I  don't  know  whether  she  preferred  him.  I  do  know  she 
had  no  idea  that  he  would  come,  but  the  possibility  was 
always  before  her.     If  he  didn't  come  in  time,  would  she 


6o  THE  HARVESTER 


be  wrong  in  giving  all  she  had  to  the  man  who  loved 
her?" 

The  Harvester's  laugh  was  short  and  sharp. 

"She  had  nothing  to  give,  Ruth!  Talk  about  worm- 
wood, colocynth  apples,  and  hemlock!  What  sort  of 
husks  would  that  be  to  offer  a  man  who  gave  honest 
love?  Lie  to  him!  Pretend  feeling  she  didn't  experience. 
Endure  him  for  the  sake  of  what  he  offered  her?  Well 
I  don't  know  how  calmly  any  other  man  would  take  that 
proceeding,  Ruth,  but  tell  your  friend  for  me,  that  if  I 
offered  a  woman  the  deep,  lasting,  and  only  loving  passion 
of  my  heart,  and  she  gave  back  a  lie  and  indifferent  lips, 
I'd  drop  her  into  the  deepest  hole  of  my  lake  and  take 
my  punishment  cheerfully." 

"But  if  it  would  make  him  happy?  He  deserves 
every  happiness,  and  he  need  never  know!" 

The  Harvester's  laugh  raised  to  an  angry  roar. 

"You  simpleton!"  he  cried  roughly.  "Do  you  know 
so  little  of  human  passion  in  the  heart  that  you  think 
love  can  be  a  successful  assumption?  Good  Lord,  Ruth! 
Do  you  think  a  man  is  made  of  wood  or  stone,  that  a 
woman's  lips  in  her  first  kiss  wouldn't  tell  him  the  truth? 
Why  Girl,  you  might  as  well  try  to  spread  your  tired  arms 
and  fly  across  the  lake  as  to  attempt  to  pretend  a  love 
you  do  not  feel.     You  never  could!" 

"I  said  a  girl  I  knew!" 

"'A  Girl  you  knew,'  then!  Any  woman!  The  idea 
is  monstrous.  Tell  her  so  and  forget  it.  You  almost 
scared  the  life  out  of  me  for  a  minute,  Ruth.     I  thought 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        361 

it  was  going  to  be  you.  But  I  remember  your  debt  is 
to  be  paid  with  the  first  money  you  earn,  and  you  can 
not  have  the  slightest  idea  what  love  is,  if  you  honestly 
ask  if  it  can  be  simulated.  No  ma'am!  It  can't!  Not 
possibly!  Not  ever!  And  when  the  day  comes  that 
its  fires  light  your  heart,  you  will  come  to  me,  and  tell 
of  a  flood  of  delight  that  is  tingling  from  the  soles  of  your 
feet  through  every  nerve  and  fibre  of  your  body,  and  you 
will  laugh  with  me  at  the  time  when  you  asked  if  it  could 
be  imitated  successfully.  No,  ma'am!  Now  let  me  help 
you  to  the  cabin,  serve  a  good  supper,  and  see  you  eat 
like  a  farmer."  , 

All  evening  the  Harvester  was  so  gay  he  kept  the 
Girl  laughing  and  at  last  she  asked  him  the  cause. 

"Relief,  honey!  Relief!"  cried  the  man.  "You  had 
me  paralyzed  for  a  minute,  Ruth.  I  thought  you  were 
trying  to  tell  me  that  there  was  some  one  so  possessing 
your  heart  that  it  failed  every  time  you  tried  to  think 
about  caring  for  me.  If  you  hadn't  convinced  me  before 
you  finished  that  love  never  has  touched  you,  I'd  be 
the  saddest  man  in  the  world  to-night,  Ruth." 

The  Girl  stared  at  him  with  wide  eyes  and  silently 
turned  away. 

Then  for  a  week  they  worked  out  life  together  in  the 
woods.  The  Harvester  was  the  housekeeper  and  the 
cook.  He  added  to  his  store  many  delicious  broths  and 
stimulants  he  brought  from  the  city.  They  drove  every 
day  through  the  cool  woods,  often  rowed  on  the  lake  in 
the  evenings,  walked  up  the  hill  to  the  oak  and  scattered 


362  THE  HARVESTER 

fresh  flowers  on  the  two  mounds  there,  and  sat  beside 
them  talking  for  a  time.  The  Harvester  kept  up  his  work 
with  the  herbs,  and  the  little  closet  for  the  blue  dishes 
was  finished.  They  celebrated  installing  them  by  having 
supper  on  the  living-room  table,  with  the  teapot  on  one 
end,  and  the  pitcher  full  of  bellflowers  on  the  other. 

The  Girl  took  everything  prescribed  for  her,  bathed, 
slept  all  she  could,  and  worked  for  health  with  all  the 
force  of  her  frail  being,  and  as  the  days  went  by  it  seemed 
to  the  Harvester  her  weight  grew  lighter,  her  hands  hotter, 
and  she  drove  herself  to  a  gayety  almost  delirious.  He 
thought  he  would  have  preferred  a  dull,  stupid  sleep  of 
malaria.  There  was  colour  in  plenty  on  her  cheeks  now, 
and  sometimes  he  found  her  wrapped  in  the  white  shawl 
at  noon  on  the  warmest  days  Medicine  Woods  knew  in 
early  August;  and  on  cool  nights  she  wore  the  thinnest 
clothing  and  begged  to  be  taken  on  the  lake.  The 
Careys  came  out  every  other  evening  and  the  doctor 
watched  and  worked,  but  he  did  not  get  the  results  he 
desired.     His  medicines  were  not  effective. 

" David,"  he  said  one  evening,  "I  don't  like  the  looks 
of  this.  Your  wife  has  fever  I  can't  break.  It  is  eating 
the  little  store  of  vitality  she  has  right  out  of  her,  and 
some  of  these  days  she  is  coming  down  with  a  crash. 
She  should  yield  to  the  remedies  I  am  giving  her.  She 
acts  to  me  like  a  woman  driven  wild  by  trouble  she  is 
concealing.     Do  you  know  anything  that  worries  her?" 

"No,"  said  the  Harvester,  "but  I'll  try  to  find  out  if 
it  will  help  you  in  your  work." 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT         363 

After  they  were  gone  he  left  the  Girl  lying  in  the 
swing  guarded  by  the  dog,  and  went  across  the  marsh 
on  the  excuse  that  he  was  going  to  a  bed  of  thorn  apple 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  There  he  sat  on  a  log  and  tried 
to  think.  With  the  mists  of  night  rising  around  him, 
ghosts  arose  he  fain  would  have  escaped.  "What  will 
you  give  me  in  cold  cash  to  tell  you  who  she  is,  and  who 
her  people  are?"  Times  untold  in  the  past  two  weeks 
he   had   smothered,   swallowed,    and    choked    it    down. 

That  question  she  had  wanted  to  ask was  it  for  a 

girl  she  had  known,  or  was  it  for  herself?  Days  of 
thought  had  deepened  the  first  slight  impression  he  so 
bravely  had  put  aside,  not  into  certainty,  but  a  great 
fear  that  she  had  meant  herself.  If  she  did,  what  was 
he  to  do?  Who  was  the  man?  There  was  a  debt  she  had 
to  pay  if  he  asked  it?  What  debt  could  a  woman  pay 
a  man  that  did  not  involve  money?  Crouched  on  a  log 
he  suffered  and  twisted  in  agonizing  thought.  At  last 
he  arose  and  returned  to  the  cabin.  He  carried  a  few 
frosty,  blue-green  leaves  of  velvet  softness  and  unusual 
cutting,  prickly  thorn  apples  full  of  seeds,  and  some  of 
the  smoother,  more  yellowish-green  leaves  of  the  jim- 
son  weed,  to  give  excuse  for  his  absence. 

"Don't  touch  them,"  he  warned  as  he  came  to  her. 
"They  are  poison  and  have  disagreeable  odour.  But 
we  are  importing  them  for  medicinal  purposes.  On  the 
far  side  of  the  marsh,  where  the  ground  rises,  there  is  a 
waste  place  just  suited  to  them,  and  so  long  as  they  will 
seed  and  flourish  with  no  care  at  all,  I  might  as  well  have 


364  THE  HARVESTER 

the  price  as  the  foreign  people  who  raise  them.  They 
don't  bring  enough  to  make  them  worth  cultivating,  but 
when  they  grow  alone  and  with  no  care,  I  can  make 
money  on  the  time  required  to  clip  the  leaves  and  dry  the 
seeds.     I  must  go  wash  before  I  come  close  to  you." 

The  next  day  he  had  business  in  the  city,  and  again 
she  lay  in  the  swing  and  talked  to  the  dog  while  the  Har- 
vester was  gone.  She  was  startled  as  Belshazzar  arose 
with  a  gruff  bark.  She  looked  down  the  driveway, 
but  no  one  was  coming.  Then  she  followed  the  dog's 
eyes  and  saw  a  queer,  little  old  woman  coming  up  the 
bank  of  Singing  Water  from  the  north.  She  remem- 
bered what  the  Harvester  had  said,  and  rising  she  opened 
the  screen  and  went  down  the  path.  As  the  Girl  ad- 
vanced she  noticed  the  scrupulous  cleanliness  of  the 
calico  dress  and  gingham  apron,  and  the  snowy  hair 
framing  a  bronzed  face  with  dancing  dark  eyes. 

"Are  you  David's  new  wife?"  asked  Granny  Moreland 
with  laughing  inflection. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Girl.  "Come  in.  He  told  me  to  ex- 
pect you.  I  am  so  sorry  he  is  away,  but  we  can  get  ac- 
quainted without  him.     Let  me  help  you." 

"I  don't  know  but  that  ought  to  be  the  other  way 
about.     You  don't  look  very  strong,  child." 

"I  am  not  well,"  said  the  Girl,  "but  it's  lovely  here, 
and  the  air  is  so  fine  I  am  going  to  be  better  soon.  Take 
this  chair  until  you  rest  a  little,  and  then  you  shall  see 
our  pretty  home,  and  all  the  furniture  and  my  dresses." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  see  things.     My,  but  David  has  tried 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        365 

himself!  I  heard  he  was  just'tearin'  up  Jack  over  here, 
and  I  could  get  the  sound  of  the  hammerin',  and  one 
day  he  asked  me  to  come  and  see  about  his  beddin'. 
He  had  that  Lizy  Crofter  to  wash  for  him,  but  if  I  hadn't 
jest  stood  over  her  his  blankets  would  have  been  ruined. 
She's  no  more  respect  for  fine  goods  than  a  pig  would 
have  for  cream  pie.  I  hate  to  see  woollens  abused,  as 
if  they  were  human.  My,  but  things  is  fancy  here 
since  what  David  planted  is  growin'!  Did  you  ever 
live  in  the  country  before?" 

"No." 

"Where  do  you  hail  from?" 

"Well   not  from   the   direction  of  hail,"   laughed   the 

Girl.     "I  lived  in  Chicago,  but  we  were were  not 

rich,  and  so  I  didn't  know  the  luxury  of  the  city;  just  the 
lonely,  difficult  part." 

"Do  you  call  Chicago  lonely?" 

"A  thousand  times  more  so  than  Medicine  Woods. 
Here  I  know  the  trees  will  whisper  to  me,  and  the  water 
laughs  and  sings  all  day,  and  the  birds  almost  split  their 
throats  making  music  for  me;  but  I  can  imagine  no  loneli- 
ness on  earth  that  will  begin  to  compare  with  being  among 
the  crowds  and  crowds  of  a  large  city  and  no  one  has  a 
word  or  look  for  you.  I  miss  the  sea  of  faces  and  the  roar 
of  life;  at  first  I  was  almost  wild  with  the  silence,  but  now 
I  don't  find  it  still  any  more;  the  Harvester  is  teaching 
mewhat  each  sound  means  and  they  seem  to  be  countless." 

"You  think,  then,  you'll  like  it  here?" 

"I    do,    indeed!     Any   one   would.     Even   more   than 


366  THE  HARVESTER 

the  beautiful  location,  I  love  the  interesting  part  of  the 
Harvester's  occupation.  I  really  think  that  gathering 
material  to  make  medicines  that  will  allay  pain  is  the 
very  greatest  of  all  the  great  work  a  man  can  do." 

"Good!"  cried  Granny  Moreland,  her  dark  eyes 
snapping.  "I've  always  said  it!  I've  tried  to  encourage 
David  in  it.  And  he's  just  capital  at  puttin'  some  of  his 
stuff  in  shape,  and  combinin'  it  in  as  good  medicine  as 
you  ever  took.  This  spring  I  was  all  crippled  up  with 
the  rheumatiz  until  I  wanted  to  holler  every  time  I  had 
to  move,  and  sometimes  it  got  so  aggravatin'  I'm  not 
right  sure  but  I  done  it.  'Long  comes  David  and  says, 
'I  can  fix  you  somethin','  and  bless  you,  if  the  boy  didn't 
take  the  tucks  out  of  me,  until  here  I  am,  and  tickled 
to  pieces  that  I  can  get  here.  This  time  last  year  I  didn't 
care  if  I  lived  or  not.  Now  seems  as  if  I'm  caperish 
as  a  three  weeks'  lamb.  I  don't  see  how  a  man  could 
do  a  bigger  thing  than  to  stir  up  life  in  you  like  that." 

"I  think  this  place  makes  an  especial  appeal  to  me, 
because,  shortly  before  I  came,  I  had  to  give  up  my 
mother.  She  was  very  ill  and  suffered  horribly.  Every 
time  I  see  David  going  to  his  little  laboratory  on  the  hill 
to  work  a  while  I  slip  away  and  ask  God  to  help  him  to 
fix  something  that  will  ease  the  pain  of  humanity  as 
I  should  like  to  have  seen  her  relieved." 

"Why  you  poor  child!  No  wonder  you  are  lookin' 
so  thin  and  peaked!" 

"Oh  I'll  soon  be  over  that,"  said  the  Girl.  "I  am 
much  better  than  when  I  came.     I'll  be  coming  over  to 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        367 

trade  pie  with  you  before  long.     David  says  you  are  my 
nearest  neighbour,  so  we  must  be  close  friends." 

"Well  bless  your  big  heart!  Now  who  ever  heard 
of  a  pretty  young  thing  like  you  wantin'  to  be  friends  with 
a  plain  old  country  woman?" 

"Why  I  think  you  are  lovely!"  cried  the  Girl.  "And 
all  of  us  are  on  the  way  to  age,  so  we  must  remember 
that  we  will  want  kindness  then  more  than  at  any  other 
time.  David  says  you  knew  his  mother.  Sometime  won't 
you  tell  me  all  about  her?  You  must  very  soon.  The 
Harvester  adored  her,  and  Doctor  Carey  says  she  was  the 
noblest  woman  he  ever  knew.  It's  a  big  contract  to 
take  her  place.  Maybe  if  you  would  tell  me  all  you  can 
remember  I  could  profit  by  much  of  it." 

Granny  Moreland  watched  the  Girl  keenly. 

"She  wa'ant  no  ordinary  woman,  that's  sure,"  she 
commented.  "And  she  didn't  make  no  common  man 
out  of  her  son,  either.  I've  always  contended  she  took 
the  job  too  serious,  and  wore  herself  out  at  it,  but  she  cer- 
tainly done  the  work  up  prime.  If  she's  above  cloud  lean- 
in'  over  the  ramparts  lookin'  down though  it  gets  me 

as  to  what  foundation  they  use  or  where  they  get  the 

stuff  to  build  the  ramparts but  if  they  is  ramparts, 

and  she's  peekin'  over  them,  she  must  take  a  lot  of  solid 
satisfaction  in  seeing  that  David  is  not  only  the  man  she 
fought  and  died  to  make  him,  but  he's  give  her  quite  a 
margin  to  spread  herself  on.  She /lowed  to  make  him  a 
big  man,  but  you  got  to  know  him  close  and  plenty  'fore  it 
strikes  you  jest  what  his  size  is.     I've  watched  him  pretty 


368  THE  HARVESTER 

sharp,  and  tried  to  help  what  I  could  since  Marthy  went, 
and  I'm  frank  to  say  I  druther  see  David  happy  than 
to  be  happy  myself.  I've  had  my  fling.  The  rest  of 
the  way  I'm  willin'  to  take  what  comes,  with  the  best 
grace  I  can  muster,  and  wear  a  smilin'  face  to  betoken 
the  joy  I  have  had;  but  it  cuts  me  sore  to  see  the  young 
sufTerin'." 

"Do  you  think  David  is  unhappy?"  asked  the  Girl 
eagerly. 

"I  don't  see  how  he  could  be!"  cried  the  old  lady. 
"Of  course  he  ain't!  'Pears  as  if  he's  got  everythin'  to 
make  him  the  proudest,  best  satisfied  of  men.  I'll  own  I 
was  mighty  anxious  to  see  you.  I  know  the  kind  o' 
woman  it  would  take  to  make  David  miserable,  and  it 

seems  sometimes  as  if  men that  is  good  men are 

plumb,  stone  blind  when  it  comes  to  pickin'  a  woman. 
They  jest  hitch  up  with  everlastin'  misery  easy  as  dew 
rolling  off  a  cabbage  leaf.  It's  sech  a  blessed  sight  to 
see  you,  and  hear  your  voice  and  know  you're  the  woman 
anybody  can  see  you  be.  Why  I'm  so  happy  when  I 
set  here  and  con-tem'-plate  you,  I  want  to  cackle  like  a 
pullet  announcin'  her  first  egg.  Ain't  this  porch  the 
purtiest  place?" 

"Come  see  everything,"  invited  the  Girl,  rising. 

Granny  Moreland  followed  with  alacrity. 

"Bare  floors!"  she  cried.  "Wouldn't  that  best  you? 
I  saw  they  was  finished  capital  when  I  was  over,  but 
I  'lowed  they'd  be  covered  afore  you  come.  Don't  you 
like  nice,  flowery  Brissels  carpets,  honey?" 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        369 

"No  I  don't,"  said  the  Girl.  "You  see,  when  rugs 
are  dusty  they  can  be  rolled,  carried  outside,  and  cleaned. 
The  walls  can  be  wiped,  the  floors  polished,  and  that 
way  a  house  is  always  fresh.  I  can  keep  this  shining, 
germ  proof,  and  truly  clean  with  half  the  work  and  none 
of  the  danger  of  heavy  carpets  and  curtains." 

"I  don't  doubt  but  them  is  true  words,"  said  Granny 
Moreland  earnestly.  "Work  must  be  easier  and  sooner 
done  than  it  was  in  my  day,  or  people  jest  couldn't  have 
houses  the  size  of  this  or  the  time  to  gad  that  women 
have  now.  From  the  looks  of  the  streets  of  Onabasha, 
you  wouldn't  think  a  woman  'ud  had  a  baby  to  tend,  a 
dinner  pot  a-bilin',  or  a  bakin'  of  bread  sence  the  flood. 
And  the  country  is  jest  as  bad  as  the  city.  We're  a 
apin'  them  to  beat  the  monkeys  at  a  show.  I  hardly 
got  a  neighbour  that  ain't  got  figgered  Brissels  carpet, 
a  furnace,  a  windmill,  a  pianny,  and  her  own  horse  and 
buggy.  Several's  got  autermobiles,  and  the  young  folks 
are  visitin'  around  a-ridin'  the  trolleys,  goin'  to  college, 
and  copyin'  city  ways.  Amos  Peters,  next  to  us,  goes 
bareheaded  in  the  hay  field,  and  wears  gloves  to  pitch 
and  plow  in.  I  tell  him  he  reminds  me  of  these  city 
women  that  only  wears  the  lower  half  of  a  waist  and  no 
sleeves,  and  a  yard  of  fine  goods  moppin'  the  floors. 
Well  if  that  don't  beat  the  nation!  Ain't  them  Marthy's 
old  blue  dishes?" 

"Let  me  show  you!"  The  Girl  opened  the  little  cup- 
board and  exhibited  the  willow  ware.  The  eyes  of  the 
old  woman  began  to  sparkle. 


37o  THE  HARVESTER 

"Foundation  or  no  foundation,  I  do  hope  them  ram- 
parts is  a  go!"  she  cried.  "If  Marthy  Langston  is 
squintin'  over  them  and  she  sees  her  old  chany  put  in  a 
fine  cupboard,  and  her  little  shawl  round  as  purty  a  girl 
as  ever  stepped,  and  knows  her  boy  is  gittin'  what  he 
deserves,  good  Lord,  she'll  be  like  to  oust  the  Almighty, 
and  set  on  the  throne  herself!  'Bout  every  thin'  in  life 
was  a  disappointment  to  her,  'cept  David.  Now  if 
she  could  see  this!  Won't  I  rub  it  into  the  neighbours? 
And  my  boys'  wives!" 

"I  don't  understand,"  said  the  bewildered  Girl. 
:"Course   you    don't,    honey,"    explained    the   visitor. 
'It's  like  this:     I  don't  know  anybody,  man  or  woman, 
in  these  parts,  that  ain't  rampagin'  for  change.     They 
ain't  one  of  them  that  would  live  in  a  log  cabin,  though 
they's  not  a  house  in  twenty  miles  of  here  that  fits  its 
surroundin's  and  looks  so  homelike  as  this.      They   run 
up   big,    fancy   brick   and   frame   things,    all   turns    and 
gables  and  gay  as  frosted  picnic  pie,  and  work  and  slave 
to  git  these  very  carpets  you  say  ain't  healthy,  and  the 
chairs  you  say  you  wouldn't  give  house  room,  an'  they 
use  their    grandmother's  chany  for  bakin',  scraps,   and 
grease  dishes,  and  hide  it  if  they's  visitors.     All  of  them 
strainin'    after    something    they  can't    afford,   and    that 
ain't  healthy  when    they  git  it,  because  somebody  else 
is  doin'  the  same  thing.     Mary  Peters  says  she  is  afeared 
of  her  life  in  their  new  steam  wagon,  and  she  says  Andy 
gits  so  narvous  runnin'  it,  he  jest  keeps  on  a-jerkin'  and 
drivin'  all  night,  and  she  thinks  he'll  soon  go  to  smash 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT         371 

himself,  if  the  machine  doesn't  beat  him.  But  they  are 
keepin'  it  up,  because  Graceston's  is,  and  so  it  goes  all 
over  the  country.  Now  I  call  it  a  slap  right  in  the  face 
to  have  a  Chicagy  woman  come  to  the  country  to  live, 
and  enjoy  a  log  cabin,  bare  floors,  and  her  man's  grand- 
mother's dishes.  If  there  ain't  Marthy's  old  blue  cover- 
lid also  carefully  spread  on  a  splinter  new  sofy.  Landy, 
I  can't  wait  to  get  to  my  son  John's!  He's  got  a  woman 
that  would  take  two  coppers  off  the  collection  plate  while 
she  was  purtendin'  to  put  on  one,  if  she  could,  and  then 
spend  them  for  a  brass  pin  or  a  string  of  glass  beads. 
Won't  her  eyes  bung  when  I  tell  her  about  this?  She 
wanted  my  Peter  Hartman  kiver  for  her  ironin'  board. 
Show  me  the  rest!" 

"This  is  the  dining-room,"  said  the  Girl,  leading  the 
way. 

Granny  Moreland  stepped  in  and  sent  her  keen  eyes 
ranging  over  the  floor,  walls,  and  furnishings.  She  sank 
on  a  chair  and  said  with  a  chuckle,  "Now  you  go  on  and 
tell  me  all  about  it,  honey.  Jest  what  things  are  and  why 
you  fixed  them,  and  how  they  are  used." 

The  Girl  did  her  best,  and  the  old  woman  nodded  in 
delighted  approval. 

"It's  the  purtiest  thing  I  ever  saw,"  she  announced. 
"A  minute  ago,  I'd  'a'  said  them  blue  walls  back  there, 
jest  like  October  skies  in  Indian  summer,  and  the  brown 
rugs,  like  leaves  in  the  woods,  couldn't  be  beat;  but  this 
green  and  yaller  is  purtier  yet.  That  blue  room  will 
keep  the  best  lookin'  part  of  fall  on  all  winter,  and  with 


372  THE  HARVESTER 

a  roarin'  wood  fire,  it'll  be  capital,  and  no  mistake;  but 
this  here  is  spring,  jest  spring  eternal,  an'  that's  best  of 
all.  Looks  like  it  was  about  time  the  leaves  was  bustin' 
and  things  pushin'  up.  It  wouldn't  surprise  me  a  mite 
to  see  a  flock  of  swallers  come  sailin'  right  through  these 
winders.  And  here's  a  place  big  enough  to  lay  down 
and  rest  a  spell  right  handy  to  the  kitchen,  where  a-body 
gits  tiredest,  without  runnin'  a  half  mile  to  find  a  bed, 
and  in  the  mornin'  you  can  look  down  to  the  'still  waters'; 
and  in  the  afternoon,  when  the  sun  gits  around  here,  you 
can  pull  that  blind  and  'lift  your  eyes  to  the  hills,'  like 
David  of  the  Bible  says.  My,  didn't  he  say  the  purtiest 
things!     I  never  read  nothin'  could  touch  him!" 

"Have  you  seen  the  Psalms  arranged  in  verse  as  we 
would  write  it  now?" 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  David's  been  put  into 
real  poetry?" 

"Yes.  Some  Bibles  have  all  the  poetical  books  in 
our  forms  of  verse." 

"Well!  Sometimes  I  git  kind  o'  knocked  out!  As 
a  rule  I  hold  to  old  ways.  I  think  they're  the  healthiest 
and  the  most  faver'ble  to  the  soul.  But  they's  some 
changes  come  along,  that's  got  sech  hard  common-sense 
to  riccomend  them,  that  I  wonder  the  past  generations 
didn't  see  sooner.  Now  take  this!  An  hour  ago  I'd 
told  you  I'd  read  my  father's  Bible  to  the  end  of  my 
days.  But  if  they's  a  new  one  that's  got  David,  Solomon, 
and  Job  in  nateral  form,  I'll  have  one,  and  I'll  git  a  joy 
I  never  expected  out  of  life.     I  ain't  got  so  much  poetry 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        373 

in  me,  but  it  always  riled  me  to  read,  '7.  The  law  of 
the  Lord  is  perfect,  covertin'  the  soul.  8.  The  statutes 
of  the  Lord  are  right.  9.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  clean.' 
And  so  it  goes  on,  'bout  as  much  Jiggers  as  they  is  poetry. 
Always  did  worry  me.  So  if  they  make  Bibles  'cordin' 
to  common  sense,  I'll  have  one  to-morrow  if  I  have  to 
walk  to  Onabasha  to  get  it.  Lawsy  me!  if  you  ain't 
gathered  up  Marthy's  old  pink  tea  set,  and  give  it  a 
show,  too!  Did  you  do  that  to  please  David,  or  do  you 
honestly  think  them  is  nice  dishes?" 

"I  think  they  are  beautiful,"  laughed  the  Girl,  sinking 
to  a  chair.  "I  don't  know  that  it  did  please  him.  He 
had  been  studying  the  subject,  but  something  saved  him 
from  buying  anything  until  I  came.  I'd  have  felt  dread- 
fully if  he  had  gotten  what  he  wanted." 

"What  did  he  want,  honey?"  asked  the  old  lady  in  an 
awestruck  whisper. 

"Egg-shell  china  and  cut  glass." 

"And  you  wouldn't  let  him!  Woman!  What  do  you 
want?" 

"A  set  of  tulip-yellow  dishes,  with  Dutch  little  figures 
on  them.  They  are  so  quaint  and  they  would  har- 
monize perfectly  with  this  room." 

The  old  lady  laughed  gleefully. 

"My!  I  wouldn't  'a'  missed  this  for  a  dollar,"  she  cried. 
"It  jest  does  my  soul  good.  More'n  that,  if  you  really 
like  Marthy's  dishes  and  are  going  to  take  care  of  them 
and  use  them  right,  I'll  give  you  mine,  too.  I  ain't  never 
had  a  girl.     I've  always  hoped  she'd  'a'  had  some  jedgment 


37+  THE  HARVESTER 

of  her  own,  and  not  been  eternally  apin',  if  I  had,  but 
the  Lord  may  'a'  saved  me  many  a  disappointment  by 
sendin'  all  mine  boys.     Not  that  I'm  layin'  the  babies  on 

to  the  Lord  at  all I  jest  got  into  the  habit  of  sayiiv 

that,  'cos  everybody  else  does,  but  all  mine,  I  had  a  purty 
good  idy  how  I  got  them.  If  a  girl  of  mine  wouldn't 
'a'  had  more  sense,  raised  right  with  me,  I'd'  a'  been  purty 
bad  cut  up  over  it.  Of  course,  I  can't  be  held  responsible 
for  the  girls  my  boys  married,  but  t'other  day  Emmeline 

that's  John's  wife John  is  the  youngest,  and  I 

sort   o'    cling    to    him Emmeline    she    says    to    me, 

'Mother,  can't  I  have  this  old  pink  and  green  teapot?'  My 
heart  warmed  right  up  to  the  child,  and  I  says,  'What  do 
you  want  it  for,  Emmeline?'  And  she  says,  'To  draw  the 
tea  in.'  Cracky  Dinah!  That  fool  woman  meant  to  set 
my  grandmother's  weddin'  present  from  her  pa  and  ma, 
dishes  same  as  Marthy  Washington  used,  on  the  stove 
to  bile  the  tea  in.  I  jest  snorted!  'No,'  says  I,  'you 
can't!  'Fore  I  die,'  says  I,  'I'll  meet  up  with  some 
woman  that  '11  love  dishes  and  know  how  to  treat  them.' 
I  think  jest  about  as  much  of  David  as  I  do  my  own  boys, 
and  I  don't  make  no  bones  of  the  fact  that  he's  a  heap 
more  of  a  man.  I'd  jest  as  soon  my  dishes  went  to  his 
children  as  to  John's.  I'll  give  you  every  piece  I  got, 
if  you'll  take  keer  of  them." 

"Would  it  be  right?"  wavered  the  girl. 

"Right!  Why,  I'm  jest  tellin'  you  the  fool  wimmen 
would  bile  tea  in  them,  make  grease  sassers  of  them,  and 
use    them    to    dish    up    the    bakin'    on!     Wouldn't    you 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        375 

a  heap  rather  see  them  go  into  a  cupboard  like  David's 
ma's  is  in,  where  they'd  be  taken  keer  of,  if  they  was 
yours?     I  guess  you  would!" 

"Well  if  you  feel  that  way,  and  really  want  us  to 
have  them,  I  know  David  will  build  another  little  cup- 
board on  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace  to  put  yours  in, 
and  I  can't  tell  you  how  I'd  love  and  care  for  them." 

"I'll  jest  do  it!"  said  Granny  Moreland.  "I  got 
about  as  many  blue  ones  as  Marthy  had  an'  mine  are 
purtier  than  hers.  And  my  lustre  is  brighter,  for  I 
didn't  use  it  so  much.  Is  this  the  kitchen?  Well  if 
I  ever  saw  sech  a  cool,  white  place  to  cook  in  before! 
Ain't  David  the  beatenest  hand  to  think  up  things? 
He  got  the  start  of  that  takin'  keer  of  his  ma  all  his 
life.  He  sort  of  learned  what  a  woman  uses,  and  how 
it's  handiest.  Not  that  other  men  don't  know;  it's 
jest  that  they  are  too  mortal  selfish  and  keerless  to  fix 
things.  Well  this  is  great!  Now  when  you  bile  cabbage 
and  the  wash,  always  open  your  winders  wide  and  let 
the  steam  out,  so  it  won't  spile  your  walls." 

"I'll  be  very  careful,"  promised  the  Girl.  "Now  come 
see  my  bathroom,  closet  and  bedroom." 

"Well  as  I  live!  Ain't  this  fine.  I'll  bet  a  purty 
that  if  I'd  'a'  had  a  room  and  a  trough  like  this  to  soak  in 
when  I  was  wore  to  a  frazzle,  I  wouldn't  'a'  got  all  twisted 
up  with  rheumatiz  like  I  am.  It  jest  looks  restful  to 
see.  I  never  washed  in  a  place  like  this  in  all  my  days. 
Must  feel  grand  to  be  wet  all  over  at  once!  Now  every- 
body ought  to  have  sech  a  room  and  use  it  at  all  hours, 


376  THE  HARVESTER 

like  David  does  the  lake.  Did  you  ever  see  his  beat  to 
go  swimmin'?  He's  always  in  splashin'!  Been  at  it 
all  his  life.  I  used  to  be  skeered  when  he  was  a  little 
tyke.  He  soaked  so  much  'peared  like  he'd  wash  all  the 
substance  out  of  him,  but  it  only  made  him  strong." 

"Has  he  ever  been  ill?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of,  and  I  reckon  I'd  knowed  it  if 
he  had.  Well  what  a  clothespress!  I  never  saw  so 
many  dresses  at  once.  Ain't  they  purty?  Oh  I  wish 
I  was  young,  and  could  have  one  like  that  yaller.  And 
I'd  like  to  have  one  like  your  lavender  right  now.  My! 
You  are  lucky  to  have  so  many  nice  clothes.  It's  a 
good  thing  most  girls  haven't  got  them,  or  they'd  stand 
primpin'  all  day  tryin'  to  decide  which  one  to  put  on. 
I  don't  see  how  you  tell  yourself." 

"I  wear  the  one  that  best  hides  how  pale  I  am,"  an- 
swered the  Girl.  "I  use  the  colours  now.  When  I 
grow  plump  and  rosy,  I'll  wear  the  white." 

Granny  Moreland  dropped  on  the  couch  and  assured 
herself  that  it  was  Martha's  pink  Peter  Hartman.  Then 
she  examined  the  sunshine  room. 

"Well  I  got  to  go  back  to  the  start,"  she  said  at  last. 
"This  beats  the  dinin'-room.  This  is  the  purtiest  thing 
I  ever  saw.  Oh  I  do  hope  they  ain't  so  run  to  white 
in  Heaven  as  some  folks  seem  to  think!  Used  to  be 
scandalized  if  a-body  took  anythin'  but  a  white  flower 
to  a  funeral.  Now  they  tell  me  that  when  Jedge  Stil- 
ton's youngest  girl  come  from  New  York  to  her  pa's 
buryin'  she  fetched  about  a  wash  tub  of  blood-red  roses. 


*"■<«*>, 


"V 


to 


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OS 
cu 

> 


O 

O 
T3 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        377 

Put  them  all  over  him,  too!  Said  he  loved  red  roses 
livin'  and  so  he  was  goin'  to  have  them  when  he  passed 
over.  Now  if  they  are  lettin'  up  a  little  on  white  on 
earth,  mebby  some  of  the  stylish  ones  will  carry  the 
fashion  over  yander.  If  Heaven  is  like  this,  I  won't  spend 
none  of  my  time  frettin'  about  the  foundations.  I'll 
jest  forget  there  is  any,  even  if  we  do  always  have  to  be 
so  perticler  to  get  them  solid  on  earth.  Talk  of  gold 
harps!  Can't  you  almost  hear  them?  And  listen  to 
the  birds  and  that  water!  Say,  you  won't  get  lonesome 
here,  will  you?" 

"Indeed  no!"  answered  the  Girl.  "Wouldn't  you 
like  to  lie  on  my  beautiful  couch  that  the  Harvester  made 
with  his  own  hands,  and  I'll  spread  Mother  Langston's 
coverlet  over  you  and  let  you  look  at  all  my  pretty  things 
while  I  slip  away  a  few  minutes  to  something  I'd  like 
to  do?" 

"I'd  love  to!"  said  the  old  woman.  "I  never  had  a 
chance  at  such  fine  things.  David  told  me  he  was  makin' 
your  room  all  himself,  and  that  he  was  goin'  to  fill  it 
chuck  full  of  everythin'  a  girl  ever  used,  and  I  see  he 
done  it  right  an'  proper.  Away  last  March  he  told  me  he 
was  buildin'  for  you,  an'  I  hankered  so  to  have  a  woman 
here  again,  even  though  I  never  s'posed  she'd  be  soch- 
iable  like  you,  that  I  egged  him  on  jest  all  I  could.     I 

never  would  'a'  s'posed  the  boy  could  marry  like  this 

all  by  himself." 

The  Girl  went  to  the  ice  chest  to  bring  some  of  the 
fruit  juice,  chilled  berries,  and  to  the  pantry  for  bread  and 


378  THE  HARVESTER 

wafers  to  make  a  dainty  little  lunch  that  she  placed  on 
the  veranda  table;  and  then  she  and  Granny  Moreland 
talked,  until  the  visitor  said  that  she  must  go.  The 
Girl  went  with  her  to  the  little  bridge  crossing  Singing 
Water  on  the  north.  There  the  old  lady  took  her 
hand. 

"Honey,"  she  said,  "I'm  goin'  to  teU  you  somethin'. 
I  am  so  happy  I  can  purt  near  fly.  Last  night  I  was 
comin'  down  the  pike  over  there  chasm'  home  a  contrary 
old  gander  of  mine,  and  I  looked  over  on  your  land  and 
I  see  David  settin'  on  a  log  with  his  head  between  his 
hands  a  lookin'  like  grim  death,  if  I  ever  see  it.  My 
heart  plum  stopped.  Says  I,  'she's  a  failure!  She's  a 
bustin'  the  boy's  heart!  I'll  go  straight  over  and  tell 
her  so.'  I  didn't  dare  bespeak  him,  but  I  was  on  nettles 
all  night.  I  jest  laid  a-studyin'  and  a-studyin',  and  I 
says,  'Come  mornin'  I'll  go  straight  and  give  her  a  curry- 
combin'  that'll  do  her  good.'  And  I  started  a-feelin' 
pretty  grim,  and  here  you  came  to  meet  me,  and  wiped 
it  all  out  of  my  heart  in  a  flash.  It  did  look  like  the  boy 
was  grievin';  but  I  know  now  he  was  jest  thinkin'  up  what 
to  put  together  to  take  the  ache  out  of  some  poor  old 
carcass  like  mine.  It  never  could  have  been  about  you. 
Like  a  half  blind  old  fool  I  thought  the  boy  was  sufTerin', 
and  here  he  was  only  studyin' !  Like  as  not  he  was  think- 
in'  what  to  do  next  to  show  you  how  he  loves  you.  What 
an  old  silly  I  was!  I'll  sleep  like  a  log  to-night  to  pay- 
up  for  it.  Good-bye,  honey!  You  better  go  back  and 
lay  down  a  spell.     You  do  look  mortal  tired." 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        379 

The  Girl  said  good-bye  and  staggering  a  few  steps 
sank  on  a  log  and  sat  staring  at  the  sky. 

"Oh  he  was  suffering,  and  about  me!"  she  gasped. 
A  chill  began  to  shake  her  and  feverish  blood  to  race 
through  her  veins.  "He  does  and  gives  everything;  I 
do  and  give  nothing!  Oh  why  didn't  I  stay  at  Uncle 
Henry's  until  it  ended?  It  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad 
as  this.  What  will  I  do?  Oh  what  will  I  do?  Oh 
mother,  mother!  if  I'd  only  had  the  courage  you  did." 

She  arose  and  staggered  up  the  hill,  passed  the  cabin 
and  went  to  the  oak.  There  she  sank  shivering  to  earth, 
and  laid  her  face  among  the  mosses.  The  frightened 
Harvester  found  her  at  almost  dusk  when  he  came  from 
the  city  with  the  Dutch  dishes,  and  helped  a  man  launch 
a  gay  little  motor  boat  for  her  on  the  lake. 

"Why  Ruth!  Ruth-girl!"  he  exclaimed,  kneeling  be- 
side her. 

She  lifted  a  strained,  distorted  face. 

"Don't  touch  me!  Don't  come  near  me!"  she  cried. 
"It  is  not  true  that  I  am  better.  I  am  not!  I  am  worse! 
I  never  will  be  better.  And  before  I  go  I've  got  to  tell 
you  of  the  debt  I  owe;  then  you  will  hate  me,  and  then  I 
will  be  glad!  Glad,  I  tell  you!  Glad!  When  you  de- 
spise me,  then  I  can  go,  and  know  that  some  day  you  will 
love  a  girl  worthy  of  you.  Oh  I  want  you  to  hate  me! 
I  am  fit  for  nothing  else." 

She  fell  forward  sobbing  wildly  and  the  Harvester 
tried  in  vain  to  quiet  her.  At  last  he  said,  "Well  then 
tell  me,  Ruth.     Remember  I  don't  want  to  hear  what 


380  THE  HARVESTER 

you  have  to  say.  I  will  believe  nothing  against  you,  not 
even  from  your  own  lips,  when  you  are  feverish  and 
excited  as  now,  but  if  it  will  quiet  you,  tell  me  and  have 
it  over.  See,  I  will  sit  here  and  listen,  and  when  you 
have  finished  I'll  pick  you  up  and  carry  you  to  your  room, 
and  I  am  not  sure  but  I  will  kiss  you  over  and  over. 
What  is  it  you  want  to  tell  me,  Ruth?" 

She  sat  up  panting  and  pushed  back  the  heavy  coils 
of  hair. 

"I've  got  to  begin  away  at  the  beginning  to  make  you 
see,"  she  said.  "The  first  thing  I  can  remember  is  a  small, 
such  a  small  room,  and  mother  sewing  and  sometimes 
a  man  I  called  father.  He  was  like  Henry  Jameson  made 
over  tall  and  smooth,  and  more,  oh,  much  more  heartless! 
He  was  gone  long  at  a  time,  and  always  we  had  most  to 
eat,  and  went  oftener  to  the  parks,  and  were  happiest 
with  him  away.  When  I  was  big  enough  to  understand, 
mother  told  me  that  she  had  met  him  and  cared  for  him 
when  she  was  an  inexperienced  girl.  She  must  have 
been  very,  very  young,  for  she  was  only  a  girl  as  I  first 
remember  her,  and  oh!  so  lovely,  but  with  the  saddest 
face  I  ever  saw.  She  said  she  had  a  good  home  and 
every  luxury,  and  her  parents  adored  her;  but  they  knew 
life  and  men,  and  they  would  not  allow  him  in  their  home, 
and  so  she  left  it  with  him,  and  he  married  her  and 
tried  to  force  them  to  accept  him,  and  they  would  not. 
At  first  she  bore  it.  Later  she  found  him  out,  and  ap- 
pealed to  them,  but  they  were  away  or  would  not  forgive, 
and  she  was  a  proud  thing,  and  would  not  beg  more  after 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        381 

she  had  said  she  was  wrong,  and  would  they  take  her 
back. 

"I  grew  up  and  we  were  girls  together.  We  embroi- 
dered, and  I  drew,  and  sometimes  we  had  little  treats 
and  good  times,  and  my  father  did  not  come  often,  and 
we  got  along  the  best  we  could.  Always  it  was  worse  on 
her,  because  she  was  not  so  strong  as  I,  and  her  heart 
was  secretly  breaking  for  her  mother,  and  she  was  afraid 
he  would  come  back  any  hour.  She  was  tortured  that 
she  could  not  educate  me  more  than  to  put  me  through 
the  high  school.  She  wore  herself  out  doing  that,  but 
she  was  wild  for  me  to  be  reared  and  trained  right.  So 
every  day  she  crouched  over  delicate  laces  and  embroi- 
dery, and  before  and  after  school  I  carried  it  and  got 
more,  and  in  vacation  we  worked  together.  But  living 
grew  higher,  and  she  became  ill,  and  could  not  work, 
and  I  hadn't  her  skill,  and  the  drawings  didn't  bring  much, 
and  I'd  no  tools " 

"Ruth,  for  mercy  sake  let  me  take  you  in  my  arms. 
If  you've  got  to  tell  this  to  find  peace,  let  me  hold  you 
while  you  do  it." 

"Never  again,"  said  the  Girl.  "You  won't  want  to 
in  a  minute.  You  must  hear  this,  because  I  can't  bear 
it  any  longer,  and  it  isn't  fair  to  let  you  grieve  and  think 
me  worth  loving.  Anyway,  I  couldn't  earn  what  she  did. 
and  I  was  afraid,  for  a  great  city  is  heartless  to  the  poor. 
One  morning  she  fainted  and  couldn't  get  up.  I  can  see 
the  awful  look  in  her  eyes  now.  She  knew  what  was 
coming.      I  didn't.      I   tried  to  be  brave  and  to  work. 


382  THE  HARVESTER 

Oh  it's  no  use  to  go  on  with  that!  It  was  just  worse  and 
worse.  She  was  lovely  and  delicate,  she  was  my  mother, 
and  I  adored  her.  Oh  Man  !  You  won't  judge  harshly?" 
'No!"  cried  the  Harvester,  "I  won't  judge  at  all, 
Ruth.     I  see  now.     Get  it  over  if  you  must  tell  me." 

"One  day  she  had  been  dreadfully  ill  for  a  long  time 
and  there  was  no  food  or  work  or  money,  and  the  last 
scrap  was  pawned,  and  she  simply  would  not  let  me 
notify  the  charities  or  tell  me  who  or  where  her  people 
were.  She  said  she  had  sinned  against  them  and  broken 
their  hearts,  and  probably  they  were  dead,  and  I  was 
desperate.  I  walked  all  day  from  house  to  house  where  I 
had  delivered  work,  but  it  was  no  use;  no  one  wanted  any- 
thing I  could  do,  and  I  went  back  frantic,  and  found  her 
gnawing  her  fingers  and  gibbering  in  delirium.  She  did  not 
know  me,  and  for  the  first  time  she  implored  me  for  food. 

"Then  I  locked  the  door  and  went  on  the  street  and  I 
asked  a  woman.  She  laughed  and  said  she'd  report  me 
and  I'd  be  locked  up  for  begging.  Then  I  saw  a  man 
I  passed  sometimes.  I  thought  he  lived  close.  I  went 
straight  to  him,  and  told  him  my  mother  was  very  ill,  and 
asked  him  to  help  her.  He  told  me  to  go  to  the  proper 
authorities.  I  told  him  I  didn't  know  who  they  were 
or  where,  and  I  had  no  money  and  she  was  a  woman  of 
refinement,  and  never  would  forgive  me.  I  offered,  if  he 
would  come  to  see  her,  get  her  some  beef  tea,  and  take 
care  of  her  while  she  lived,  that  afterward " 

The  Girl's  frail  form  shook  in  a  storm  of  sobs.  At 
last  she  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  Harvester's.     "There  must 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        383 

be  a  God,  and  somewhere  at  the  last  extremity  He  must 
come  in.  The  man  went  with  me,  and  he  was  a  young 
doctor  who  had  an  office  a  few  blocks  away,  and  he  knew 
what  to  do.  He  hadn't  much  himself,  but  for  several 
weeks  he  divided  and  she  was  more  comfortable  and  not 
hungry  when  she  went.  When  it  was  over  I  dressed 
her  the  best  I  could  in  my  graduation  dress,  and  folded 
her  hands,  and  kissed  her  good-bye,  and  told  him  I  was 

ready  to    fulfill    my  offer;  and  oh    Man! He    said 

he  had  forgotten!" 

"God!"  panted  the  Harvester. 

"We  couldn't  bury  her  there.  But  I  remembered 
my  father  had  said  he  had  a  brother  in  the  country, 
and  once  he  had  been  to  see  us  when  I  was  very  little, 
and  the  doctor  telegraphed  him,  and  he  answered 
that  his  wife  was  sick,  and  if  I  was  able  to  work  I  could 
come,  and  he  would  bury  her,  and  give  me  a  home. 
The  doctor  borrowed  the  money  and  bought  the 
coffin  you  found  her  in.  He  couldn't  do  better  or  he 
would,  for  he  learned  to  love  her.  He  paid  our 
fares  and  took  us  to  the  train.  Before  I  started  I 
went  on  my  knees  to  him  and  worshipped  him  as  the 
Almighty,  and  I  am  sure  I  told  him  that  I  always  would 
be  indebted  to  him,  and  any  time  he  required  I  would 
pay.     The  rest  you  know." 

"Have  you  heard  from  him,  Ruth?" 

"No." 

"It  was  yourself  the  other  day  on  the  bridge?" 

"Yes." 


384  THE  HARVESTER 

"Did  he  love  you?" 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  No!  Nobody  but  you  would 
love  a  girl  who  appeared  as  I  did  then." 

The  Harvester  strove  to  keep  a  set  face,  but  his  lips 
drew  back  from  his  teeth. 

"Ruth,  do  you  love  him?" 

"Love!"  cried  the  Girl.  "A  pale,  expressionless  word! 
Adore  would  come  closer!  I  tell  you  she  was  delirious 
with  hunger,  and  he  fed  her.  She  was  suffering  horrors 
and  he  eased  the  pain.  She  was  lifeless,  and  he  kept 
her  poor  tired  body  from  the  dissecting  table.  I  would 
have  fulfilled  my  offer,  and  gone  straight  into  the  lake, 
but  he  spared  me,  Man!  He  spared  me!  Worship 
is  a  good  word.  I  think  I  worship  him.  I  tried  to  tell 
you.  Before  you  got  that  license,  I  wanted  you  to 
know." 

"I  remember,"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  no  man 
could  have  gUessed  that  a  girl  with  your  face  had  agony 
like  that  in  her  heart,  not  even  when  he  read  deep  trouble 
there." 

"I  should  have  told  you  then!  I  should  have  forced 
you  to  hear!  I  was  wild  with  fear  of  Uncle  Henry, 
and  I  had  nowhere  to  go.  Now  you  know!  Go  away, 
and  the  end  will  come  soon." 

The  Harvester  arose  and  walked  a  few  steps  toward 
the  lake,  where  he  paused  stricken,  but  fighting  for 
control.  For  him  the  light  had  gone  out.  There  was 
nothing  beyond.  The  one  passion  of  his  life  must  live 
on,  satisfied  with  a  touch  from  lips  that  loved  another 


GRANNY  MORELAND'S  VISIT        385 

man.  Broken  sobbing  came  to  him.  He  did  not  even 
have  time  to  suffer.  Stumblingly  he  turned  and  going 
to  the  Girl  he  picked  her  up,  and  sat  on  the  bench  holding 
her  closely. 

"Stop  it,  Ruth!"  he  said  unsteadily.  "Stop  this! 
Why  should  you  suffer  so?  I  simply  will  not  have  it. 
I  will  save  you  against  yourself  and  the  world.  You 
shall  have  all  happiness  yet;  I  swear  it,  my  girl!  You 
are  all  right.  He  was  a  noble  man,  and  he  spared 
you  because  he  loved  you,  of  course.  I  will  make  you 
well  and  rosy  again,  and  then  I  will  go  and  find 
him,  and  arrange  everything  for  you.  I  have  spared 
you,  too,  and  if  he  doesn't  want  you  to  remain 
here  with  me,  Mrs.  Carey  would  be  glad  to  have  you 
until  I  can  free  you.  Judges  are  human.  It  will  be 
a  simple  matter.  Hush,  Ruth,  listen  to  me!  You  shall 
be  free!  At  once,  if  you  say  so!  You  shall  have  him! 
I  will  go  and  bring  him  here,  and  I  will  go  away. 
Ruth,  darling,  stop  crying  and  hear  me.  You  will  grow 
better,  now  that  you  have  told  me.  It  is  this  secret 
that  has  made  you  feverish  and  kept  you  ill.  Ruth, 
you  shall  have  happiness  yet,  if  I  have  got  to  circle 
the  globe  and  scale  the  walls  of  Heaven  to  find  it  for 
you." 

She  struggled  from  his  arms  and  ran  toward  the  lake. 
When  the  Harvester  caught  her,  she  screamed  wildly, 
and  struck  him  with  her  thin  white  hands.  He  lifted  and 
carried  her  to  the  laboratory,  where  he  gave  her  a  few 
drops  from  a  bottle  and  soon  she  became  quiet.     Then 


386  THE  HARVESTER 

he  took  her  to  the  sunshine  room,  laid  her  on  the  bed, 
locked  the  screens  and  her  door,  called  Belshazzar  to 
watch,  and  ran  to  the  stable.  A  few  minutes  later  with 
distended  nostrils  and  indignant  heart  Betsy,  under  the 
flail  of  an  unsparing  lash,  pounded  down  the  hill  toward 
Onabasha. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
Love   Invades  Science 

THE  Harvester  placed  the  key  in  the  door  and 
turned  to  Doctor  Carey  and  the  nurse. 
"I  drugged  her  into  unconsciousness  before  I 
left,  but  she  may  have  returned,  at  least  partially.  Miss 
Barnet,  will  you  kindly  see  if  she  is  ready  for  the  doctor? 
You  needn't  be  in  the  least  afraid.  She  has  no  strength, 
even  in  delirium." 

He  opened  the  door,  his  head  averted,  and  the  nurse 
hurried  into  the  room.  The  Girl  on  the  bed  was  beginning 
to  toss,  moan,  and  mutter.  Skilful  hands  straightened 
her,  arranged  the  covers,  and  the  doctor  was  called. 
In  the  living-room  the  Harvester  paced  in  misery  too 
deep  for  consecutive  thought.  As  consciousness  returned, 
the  Girl  grew  wilder,  and  the  nurse  could  not  follow  the 
doctor's  directions  and  care  for  her.  Then  Doctor 
Carey  called  the  Harvester.  He  went  in  and  sitting 
beside  the  bed  took  the  feverish,  wildly  beating  hands 
in  his  strong,  cool  ones,  and  began  stroking  them  and 
talking. 

"Easy,  honey,"  he  murmured  softly.  "Lie  quietly 
while  I  tell  you.  You  mustn't  tire  yourself.  You  are 
wasting  strength  you  need  to  fight  the  fever.     I'll  hold 

387 


388  THE  HARVESTER 

your  hands  tight,  I'll  stroke  your  head  for  you.  Lie 
quietly,  dear,  and  Doctor  Carey  and  his  head  nurse 
are  going  to  make  you  well  in  a  little  while.  That's 
right!  Let  me  do  the  moving;  you  lie  and  rest.  Only 
rest  and  rest,  until  all  the  pain  is  gone,  and  the  strong 
days  come,  and  they  are  going  to  bring  great  joy,  love, 
and  peace,  to  my  dear,  dear  girl.  Even  the  moans  take 
strength.  Try  just  to  lie  quietly  and  rest.  You  can't 
hear   Singing  Water   if  you   don't   listen,   Ruth." 

"She  doesn't  realize  that  it  is  you  or  know  what  you 
say,  David,"  said  Doctor  Carey  gently. 

"I  understand,"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  if  you 
will  observe,  you  will  see  that  she  is  quiet  when  I  stroke 
her  head  and  hands,  and  if  you  notice  closely  you  will 
grant  that  she  gets  a  word  occasionally.  If  it  is  the 
right  one,  it  helps.  She  knows  my  voice  and  touch,  and 
she  is  less  nervous  and  afraid  with  me.  Watch  a 
minute!" 

The  Harvester  took  both  of  the  Girl's  fluttering  hands 
in  one  of  his  and  with  long,  light  strokes  gently  brushed 
them,  and  then  her  head,  and  face,  and  then  her  hands 
again,  and  in  a  low,  monotonous,  half  sing-song  voice  he 
crooned,  "Rest,  Ruth,  rest!  It  is  night  now.  The 
moon  is  bridging  Loon  Lake,  and  the  whip-poor-will 
is  crying.  Listen,  dear,  don't  you  hear  him  crying? 
Still,  Girl,  still!  Just  as  quiet!  Lie  so  quietly.  The 
whip-poor-will  is  going  to  tell  his  mate  he  loves  her, 
loves  her  so  dearly.  He  is  going  to  tell  her,  when  you 
listen.     That's  a  dear  girl.     Now  he   is  beginning.     He 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  389 

says,  'Come  over  the  lake  and  listen  to  the  song  I'm 
singing  to  you,  my  mate,  my  mate,  my  dear,  dear  mate,' 
and  the  big  night  moths  are  flying;  and  the  katydids  are 
crying,  positive  and  sure  they  are  crying,  a  thing  that's 
past  denying.  Hear  them  crying?  And  the  'ducks  are 
cheeping,  soft  little  murmurs  while  they're  sleeping, 
sleeping.  Resting,  softly  resting  I  Gently,  Girl,  gently  1 
Down  the  hill  comes  Singing  Water,  laughing,  laughing! 
Don't  you  hear  it  laughing?  Listen  to  the  big  owl  court- 
ing; it  sees  the  coon  out  hunting,  it  hears  the  mink  softly 
slipping,  slipping,  where  the  dews  of  night  are  dripping. 
And  the  little  birds  are  sleeping,  so  still  they  are  sleeping. 
Girls  should  be  a-sleeping,  like  the  birds  a-sleeping,  for 
to-morrow  joy  comes  creeping,  joy  and  life  and  love  come 
creeping,  creeping  to  my  Girl.  Gently,  gently,  that's 
a  dear  girl,  gently!     Tired  hands   rest  easy,  tired  head 

lies  still!     That's  the  way  to  rest " 

On  and  on  the  even  voice  kept  up  the  story.  All  over 
and  around  the  lake,  the  length  of  Singing  Water,  the 
marsh  folk  found  voices  to  tell  of  their  lives,  where  it 
was  a  story  of  joy,  rest,  and  love.  Up  the  hill  ranged  the 
Harvester,  through  the  forest  where  the  squirrels  slept, 
the  owl  hunted,  the  fire-flies  flickered,  the  fairies  squeezed 
flower  leaves  to  make  colour  to  paint  the  autumn  foliage, 
and  danced  on  toadstool  platforms.  Just  so  long  as 
his  voice  murmured  and  his  touch  continued,  so  long  the 
Girl  lay  quietly,  and  the  medicines  could  act.  But  no 
other  touch  would  serve,  and  no  other  voice  would  answer. 
If  the  Harvester  left  the  room  five  minutes  to  show  the 


390  THE  HARVESTER 

nurse  how  to  light  the  fire,  and  where  to  find  things,  he 
returned  to  tossing,  restless  delirium. 

"It's  magic  David,"  said  Doctor  Carey.      "Magic!" 

"It  is  love,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Even  crazed  with 
fever,  she  recognizes  its  voice  and  touch.  You've  got 
your  work  cut  out,  Doc.  Roll  your  sleeves  and  collect 
your  wits.  Set  your  heart  on  winning.  There  is  one 
thing  shall  not  happen.  Get  that  straight  in  your  mind, 
right  now.  And  you  too,  Miss  Barnet!  There  is  noth- 
ing like  fighting  for  a  certainty.  You  may  think  the 
Girl  is  desperately  ill,  and  she  is,  but  make  up  your  minds 
that  you  are  here  to  fight  for  her  life,  and  to  save  it. 
Save,  do  you  understand?  If  she  is  to  go,  I  don't  need 
either  of  you.  I  can  let  her  do  that  myself.  You  are 
here  on  a  mission  of  life.  Keep  it  before  you!  Life 
and  health  for  this  Girl  is  the  prize  you  are  going  to  win. 
Dig  into  it,  and  I'll  pay  the  bills,  and  extra  besides.  If 
money  is  any  incentive,  I'll  give  you  all  I've  got  for  life 
and  health  for  the  Girl.     Are  you  doing  all  you  know?" 

"I  certainly  am,  David." 

"But  when  day  comes  you'll  have  to  go  back  to  the 
hospital  and  we  may  not  know  how  to  meet  crises  that 
will  arise.  What  then?  We  should  have  a  competent 
physician  in  the  house  until  this  fever  breaks." 

"I  had  thought  of  that,  David.  I  will  arrange  to  send 
one  of  the  men  from  the  hospital  who  will  be  able  to 
watch  symptoms  and  come  for  me  when  needed." 

"Won't  do!"  said  the  Harvester  calmly.  "She  has 
no  strength  for  waiting.     You  are  to  come  when  you  can, 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  391 

and  remain  as  long  as  possible.  The  case  is  yours;  your 
decisions  go,  but  I  will  select  your  assistant.  I  know  the 
man  I  want." 

"Who  is  he,  David?" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  I  learn  whether  I  can  get  him. 
Now  I  want  you  to  give  the  Girl  the  strongest  sedative 
you  dare,  take  off  your  coat,  roll  your  sleeves,  and  see 
how  well  you  can  imitate  my  voice,  and  how  much  you 
have  profited  by  listening  to  my  song.  In  other  words, 
before  day  calls,  I  want  you  to  take  my  place  so  success- 
fully that  you  deceive  her,  and  give  me  time  to  make  a 
trip  to  town.  There  are  a  few  things  that  must  be  done, 
and  I  think  I  can  work  faster  in  the  night.  Will 
you?" 

Doctor  Carey  bent  over  the  bed.  Gently  he  slipped 
a  practised  hand  under  the  Harvester's  and  made  the 
next  stroke  down  the  white  arm.  Gradually  he  took 
possession  of  the  thin  hands  and  his  touch  fell  on  the 
masses  of  dark  hair.  As  the  Harvester  arose  the  doctor 
took  the  seat. 

"You  go  on!"  he  ordered  gruffly.  "I'll  do  better 
alone." 

The  Harvester  stepped  back.  The  doctor's  touch  was 
easy  and  the  Girl  lay  quietly  for  an  instant,  then  she 
moved  restlessly. 

"You  must  be  still  now,"  he  said  gently.  "The  moon 
is  up,  the  lake  is  all  white,  and  the  birds  are  flying  all 
around.  Lie  still  or  you'll  make  yourself  worse.  Stiller 
than  that!     If  you  don't  you  can't  hear  things  courting. 


392  THE  HARVESTER 

The  ducks  are  quacking,  the  bull  frogs  are  croaking,  and 
everything.     Lie  still,  still,  I  tell  you!" 

"Oh  good  Lord,  Doc!"  groaned  the  Harvester  in  des- 
peration. 

The  Girl  wrenched  her  hands  free  and  her  head  rolled 
on  the  pillow. 

"Harvester!     Harvester!"  she  cried. 

The  doctor  started  to  arise. 

"Sit  still!"  commanded  the  Harvester.  "Take  her 
hands  and  go  to  work,  idiot!  Give  her  more  sedative, 
and  tell  her  I'm  coming.  That's  the  word,  if  she  realizes 
enough  to  call  for  me." 

The  doctor  possessed  himself  of  the  flying  hands,  and 
gently  held  and  stroked  them. 

"The  Harvester  is  coming,"  he  said.  "Wait  just  a 
minute,  he's  on  the  way.  He  is  coming.  I  think  I  hear 
him.  He  will  be  here  soon,  very  soon  now.  That's 
a  good  girl!  Lie  still  for  David.  He  won't  like  it  if  you 
toss  and  moan.  Just  as  still,  lie  still  so  I  can  listen.  I 
can't  tell  whether  he  is  coming  until  you  are  quiet." 

Then  he  said  to  the  Harvester,  "You  see,  I've  got  it 
now.     I  can  manage  her,  but  for  pity  sake,  hurry  man! 

Take  the  car!  Jim  is  asleep  on  the  back  seat Yes,  yes, 

Girl!  I'm  listening  for  him.  I  think  I  hear  him!  I 
think  he's  coming!" 

Here  and  there  a  word  penetrated,  and  she  lay  more 
quietly,  but  not  in  the  rest  to  which  the  Harvester  had 
lulled  her. 

"Hurry    man!"    groaned    the    doctor   in    a    whispered 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  393 

aside,  and  the  Harvester  ran  to  the  car,  awakened  the 
driver  and  told  him  he  had  a  clear  road  to  Onabasha,  to 
speed  up. 

"Where  to?"  asked  the  driver. 

"Dickson,  of  the  First  National." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  car  stopped  before  the  residence 
and  the  Harvester  made  an  attack  on  the  front  door. 
Presently  the  man  came. 

"Excuse  me  for  routing  you  out  at  this  time  of  night," 
said  the  Harvester,  "but  it's  a  case  of  necessity.  I  have 
an  automobile  here.  I  want  you  to  go  to  the  bank  with 
me,  and  get  me  an  address  from  your  draft  records. 
I  know  the  rules,  but  I  want  the  name  of  my  wife's 
Chicago  physician.  She  is  delirious,  and  I  must  telephone 
him." 

The  cashier  stepped  out  and  closed  the  door. 

"Nine  chances  out  of  ten  it  will  be  in  the  vault," 
he  said. 

"That  leaves  one  that  it  won't,"  answered  the  Har- 
vester. "Sometimes  I've  looked  in  when  passing  in  the 
night,  and  I've  noticed  that  the  books  are  not  always 
put  away.  I  could  see  some  on  the  rack  to-night.  I 
think  it  is  there." 

It  was  there,  and  the  Harvester  ordered  the  driver  to 
hurry  him  to  the  telephone  exchange,  then  take  the 
cashier  home  and  return  and  wait.  He  called  the  Chicago 
Information  office. 

"I  want  Dr.  Frank  Harmon,  whose  office  address  is  1509 
Columbia  Street.     I  don't  know  the  'phone  number." 


394  THE  HARVESTER 

Then  came  a  long  wait,  and  after  twenty  minutes  the 
blessed  buzzing  whisper,  "Here's  your  party." 
"Doctor  Harmon?" 
"Yes." 

:'You    remember   Ruth   Jameson,   the   daughter  of   a 
recent  patient  of  yours?" 
"I  do." 

"Well  my  name  is  Langston.  The  Girl  is  in  my  home 
and  care.  She  is  very  ill  with  fever,  and  she  has  much 
confidence  in  you.  This  is  Onabasha,  on  the  Grand 
Rapids  and  Indiana.  You  take  the  Pennsylvania  at 
seven  o'clock,  telegraph  ahead  that  you  are  coming  so 
that  they  will  make  connection  for  you,  change  at  twelve- 
twenty  at  Fort  Wayne,  and  I  will  meet  you  here.  You 
will  find  your  ticket  and  a  check  waiting  you  at  the 
Chicago  depot.  Arrange  to  remain  a  week  at  least. 
You  will  be  paid  all  expenses  and  regular  prices  for  your 
time.  Will  you  come?" 
"Yes." 

"All  right.  Make  no  failure.  Good-bye.' 
Then  the  Harvester  left  an  order  with  the  telephone 
company  to  run  a  wire  to  Medicine  Woods  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  and  drove  to  the  depot  to  arrange  for 
the  ticket  and  check.  In  less  than  an  hour  he  was  hold- 
ing the  Girl's  hands  and  crooning  over  her. 

"Jerusalem!"  said  Doctor  Carey,  rising  stiffly.  "I'd 
rather  undertake  to  cut  off  your  head  and  put  it  back 
on  than  to  tackle  another  job  like  that.  She's  quite 
delirious,  but  she  has  flashes,  and  at  such  times  she  knows 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  395 

whom  she  wants;  the  rest  of  the  time  it's  a  jumble  and 
some  of  it  is  rather  gruesome.  She's  seen  dreadful 
illness,  hunger,  and  there's  a  debt  she's  wild  about.  I 
told  you  something  was  back  of  this.  You've  got  to  find 
out  and  set  her  mind  at  ease." 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  said  the  Harvester  patiently 
between  crooning  sentences  to  the  Girl.  "But  the  crash 
came  before  I  could  convince  her  that  it  was  all  right  and 
I  could  fix  everything  for  her  easily.  If  she  only  could 
understand  me!" 

"Did  you  find  your  man?" 
"Yes.     He  will  be  here  this  afternoon." 
"Quick  work!" 
"This  takes  quick  work." 
"Do  you  know  anthing  about  him?" 
"Yes.     He  is  a  young  fellow,  just  starting  out.     He  is 
a  fine,  straight,  manly  man.     I  don't  know  how  much 
he    knows,    but    it    will    be   enough   to    recognize   your 
ability   and    standing,    and    to   do   what   you    tell    him. 
I  have  perfect  confidence  in  him.     I  want  you   to  come 
back    at    one,  and    take    my  place  until    I    go  to   meet 
him." 

'I  can  bring  him  out." 

"I  have  to  see  him  myself.     There  are  a  few  words 
to  be  said  before  he  sees  the  Girl." 
"David,  what  are  you  up  to?" 

"Being  as  honourable  as  I  can.  No  man  gets  any  too 
decent,  but  there  is  no  law  against  doing  as  you  would 
be  done  by,   and  being  as  straight  as  you   know  how. 


396  THE  HARVESTER 

When  I've  talked  to  him,  I'll  know  where  I  am  and  I'll 
have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"David,  I'm  afraid " 

"Then  what  do  you  suppose  I  am?"  said  the  Harves- 
ter. "It's  no  use,  Doc.  Be  still  and  take  what  comes! 
The  manner  in  which  you  meet  a  crisis  proves  you  a 
whining  cur  or  a  man.  I  have  got  lots  of  respect  for  a 
dog,  as  a  dog;  but  I've  none  for  a  man  as  a  dog.  If  you've 
gathered  from  the  Girl's  delirium  that  I've  made  a  mis- 
take, I  hope  you  have  confidence  enough  in  me  to  be- 
lieve I'll  right  it,  and  take  my  punishment  without 
whining.  Go  away,  you  make  her  worse.  Easy,  Girl,  the 
world  is  all  right  and  every  one  is  sleeping  now,  so  you 
should  be  at  rest.  With  the  day  the  doctor  will  come, 
the  good  doctor  you  know  and  like,  Ruth.  You  haven't 
forgotten  your  doctor,  Ruth?  The  kind  doctor  who  cared 
for  you.  He  will  make  you  well,  Ruth;  well  and  oh, 
so  happy!  Harmon,  Harmon,  Doctor  Harmon  is  coming 
to  you,  Girl,  and  then  you  will  be  so  happy!" 

"Why  you  blame  idiot!"  cried  Doctor  Carey  in  a 
harsh  whisper.  "Have  you  lost  all  the  sense  you  ever 
had?  Stop  that  gibber!  She  wants  to  hear  about  the 
birds  and  Singing  Water.  Go  on  with  that  woods  line  of 
talk;  she  likes  that  away  the  best.  This  stuff  is  making 
her  restless.     See!" 

"You  mean  you  are,"  said  the  Harvester  wearily. 
"Please  leave  us  alone.  I  know  the  words  that  will 
bring  comfort.     You  don't." 

He  began  the  story  all  over  again,  but  now  there  ran 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  397 

through  it  a  continual  refrain.  "Your  doctor  is  com- 
ing, the  good  doctor  you  know.  He  will  make  you 
well  and  strong,  and  he  will  make  life  so  lovely  for 
you." 

He  was  talking  without  pause  or  rest  when  Doctor 
Carey  returned  in  the  afternoon  to  take  his  place.  He 
brought  Mrs.  Carey  with  him,  and  she  tried  a  woman's 
powers  of  soothing  another  woman,  and  almost  drove  the 
Girl  to  fighting  frenzy.  So  the  doctor  made  another 
attempt,  and  the  Harvester  raced  down  the  hill  to  the 
city.  He  went  to  the  car  shed  as  the  train  pulled  in,  and 
stood  at  one  side  while  the  people  hurried  through  the 
gate.  He  was  watching  for  a  young  man  with  a  travelling 
bag  and  perhaps  a  physician's  satchel,  who  would  be 
looking  for  some  one. 

"I  think  I'll  know  him,"  muttered  the  Harvester 
grimly.  "I  think  the  masculine  element  in  me  will 
pop  up  strongly  and  instinctively  at  the  sight  of  this  man 
who  will  take  my  Dream  Girl  from  me.  Oh  good  God! 
Are  You  sure  You  are  good?" 

In  his  brown  khaki  trousers  and  shirt,  his  head  bare, 
his  bronze  face  limned  with  agony  he  made  no  attempt  to 
conceal,  the  Harvester,  with  feet  planted  firmly,  and 
tightly  folded  arms,  his  head  tipped  slightly  to  one  side, 
braced  himself  as  he  sent  his  keen  gray  eyes  searching  the 
crowd.  Far  away  he  selected  his  man.  He  was  young, 
strong,  criminally  handsome,  clean  and  alert;  there  was 
discernible  anxiety  on  his  face,  and  it  touched  the  Har- 
vester's soul  that  he  was  coming  just  as  swiftly  as  he 


398  THE  HARVESTER 

could  force  his  way.     As  he  passed  the  gates  the  Harves- 
ter reached  his  side. 

"Doctor  Harmon,  I  think,"  he  said. 

"Yes." 

"This  way!  If  you  have  luggage,  I  will  send  for  it 
later." 

The  Harvester  hurried  to  the  car. 

"Take  the  shortest  cut  and  cover  space,"  he  said  to 
the  driver.  The  car  kept  to  the  speed  limit  until  toward 
the  suburbs. 

Doctor  Harmon  removed  his  hat,  ran  his  fingers 
through  dark  waving  hair  and  yielded  his  body  to  the 
swing  of  the  car.  Neither  man  attempted  to  talk. 
Once  the  Harvester  leaned  forward  and  told  the  driver 
to  stop  on  the  bridge,  and  then  sat  silently.  As  the 
car  slowed  down,  they  alighted. 

"Drive  on  and  tell  Doc  we  are  here,  and  will  be  up 
soon,"  said  the  Harvester.  Then  he  turned  to  the 
stranger.  "Doctor  Harmon,  there's  little  time  for  words. 
This  is  my  place,  and  here  I  grow  herbs  for  medicinal 
houses." 

"I  have  heard  of  you,  and  heard  your  stuff  recom- 
mended," said  the  doctor. 

"Good!"  exclaimed  the  Harvester.  "That  saves 
time.  I  stopped  here  to  make  a  required  explanation 
to  you.  The  day  you  sent  Ruth  Jameson  to  Onabasha, 
I  saw  her  leave  the  train  and  recognized  in  her  my  ideal 
woman.  I  lost  her  in  the  crowd  and  it  took  some  time 
to   locate   her.     I   found   her  about  a   month   ago.     She 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  399 

was  miserable.  If  you  saw  what  her  father  did  to  her 
and  her  mother  in  Chicago,  you  should  have  seen  what 
his  brother  was  doing  here.  The  end  came  one  day  in 
my  presence,  when  I  paid  her  for  ginseng  she  had  found 
to  settle  her  debt  to  you.  He  robbed  her  by  force. 
I  took  the  money  from  him,  and  he  threatened  her.     She 

was  ill  then  from  heat,  overwork,  wrong  food every 

misery  you  can  imagine  heaped  upon  the  dreadful  con- 
ditions in  which  she  came.  It  had  been  my  intention 
to  court  and  marry  her  if  I  possibly  could.  That  day 
she  had  nowhere  to  go;  she  was  wild  with  fear;  the  fever 
that  is  scorching  her  now  was  in  her  veins  then.  I  did 
an  insane  thing.  I  begged  her  to  marry  me  at  once  and 
come  here  for  rest  and  protection.  I  swore  that  if  she 
would,  she  should  not  be  my  wife,  but  my  honoured 
guest,  until  she  learned  to  love  me  and  released  me  from 
my  vow.  She  tried  to  tell  me  something;  I  had  no  idea 
it  was  anything  that  would  make  any  real  difference,  and 
I  wouldn't  listen.  Last  night,  when  the  fever  was  be- 
ginning to  do  its  worst,  she  told  me  of  your  entrance  into 
her  life  and  what  it  meant  to  her.  Then  I  saw  that  I 
had  made  a  mistake.  You  were  her  choice,  the  man 
she  could  love,  not  me,  so  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending 
for  you.  I  want  you  to  cure  her,  court  her,  marry  her, 
and  make  her  happy.  God  knows  she  has  had  her  share 
of  suffering.     You  recognize  her  as  a  girl  of  refinement ?" 

"I  do." 

"You  grant  that  in  health  she  would  be  lovelier  than 
most  women,  do  you  not?" 


400  THE  HARVESTER 

"She  was  more  beautiful  than  most  in  sickness  and 
distress." 

"Good!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "She  has  been  here 
two  weeks.  I  give  you  my  word,  my  promise  to  her  has 
been  kept  faithfully.  As  soon  as  I  can  leave  her  to  at- 
tend to  it,  she  shall  have  her  freedom.  That  will  be 
easy.     Will  you  marry  her?" 

The  doctor  hesitated. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  Harvester. 

"Well  to  be  frank,"  said  Doctor  Harmon,  "it  is 
money!  I'm  only  getting  a  start.  I  borrowed  funds 
for  my  schooling  and  what  I  used  for  her.  She  is 
in  every  way  attractive  enough  to  be  desired  by 
any  man,  but  how  am  I  to  provide  a  home  and 
support  her  and  pay  these  debts?  I'll  try  it,  but  I 
am  afraid  it  will  be  taking  her  back  to  wrong  conditions 
again." 

"If  you  knew  that  she  owned  a  comfortable  cottage 
in  the  suburbs,  where  it  is  cool  and  clean,  and  had, 
say  a  hundred  a  month  of  her  own  for  the  coming  three 
years,  could  you  see  your  way?" 

"That  would  make  all  the  difference  in  the  world.  I 
thought  seriously  of  writing  her.  I  wanted  to,  but  I 
concluded  I'd  better  work  as  hard  as  I  could  for  some 
practice  first,  and  see  if  I  could  make  a  living  for  two, 
before  I  tried  to  start  anything.  I  had  no  idea  she  would 
not  be  comfortably  cared  for  at  her  uncle's." 

"I  see,"  said  the  Harvester.  "If  I  had  kept  out,  life 
would  have  come  right  for  her." 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  401 

"On  the  contrary,"  said  the  doctor,  "it  appears  very 
probable  that  she  would  not  be  living." 

"It  is  understood  between  us,  then,  that  you  will 
court  and  marry  her  so  soon  as  she  is  strong  enough?" 

"It  is  understood,"  agreed  the  doctor. 

"Will  you  honour  me  by  taking  my  hand?"  asked  the 
Harvester.  "I  scarcely  had  hoped  to  find  so  much  of  a 
man.  Now  come  to  your  room  and  get  ready  for  the 
stifTest  piece  of  work  you  ever  attempted." 

The  Harvester  led  the  way  to  the  guest  chamber  over- 
looking the  lake,  and  installed  its  first  occupant.  Then  he 
hurried  to  the  Girl.  The  doctor  was  holding  her  head 
and  one  hand,  his  wife  the  other,  and  the  nurse  her  feet. 
It  took  the  Harvester  ten  strenuous  minutes  to  make 
his  touch  and  presence  known  and  to  work  quiet.  All 
over  he  began  crooning  his  story  of  rest,  joy,  and  love. 
He  broke  off  with  a  few  words  to  introduce  Doctor 
Harmon  to  the  Careys  and  the  nurse,  and  then  calmly 
continued  while  the  other  men  stood  and  watched  him. 

"Seems  rather  cut  out  for  it,"  commented  Doctor 
Harmon. 

"I  never  yet  have  seen  him  attempt  anything  that  he 
didn't  appear  cut  out  for,"  answered  Doctor  Carey. 

"Will  she  know  me?"  inquired  the  young  man,  ap- 
proaching the  bed. 

When  the  Girl's  eyes  fell  on  him  she  grew  rigid  and  lay 
staring  at  him.  Suddenly  with  a  wild  cry  she  struggled 
to  rise. 

"You  have  come!"  she  cried.     "Oh  I  knew  you  would 


402  THE  HARVESTER 

come!  I  felt  you  would  come!  I  cannot  pay  you  now! 
Oh  why  didn't  you  come  sooner?" 

The  young  doctor  leaned  over  and  took  one  of  the 
white  hands  from  the  Harvester,  stroking  it  gently. 

"Why  you  did  pay,  Ruth!  How  did  you  come  to 
forget?  Don't  you  remember  the  draft  you  sent  me? 
I  didn't  come  for  money;  I  came  to  visit  you,  to  nurse 
you,  to  do  all  I  can  to  make  you  well.  I  am  going  to 
take  care  of  you  now  so  finely  you'll  be  out  on  the  lake 
and  among  the  flowers  soon.  I've  got  some  medicine 
that  makes  every  one  well.  It's  going  to  make  you  strong, 
and  there's  something  else  that's  going  to  make  you 
happy;  and  me,  I'm  going  to  be  the  proudest  man  alive." 

He  reached  over  and  took  possession  of  the  other  hand, 
stroking  them  softly,  and  the  Girl  lay  tensely  staring 
at  him  and  gradually  yielding  to  his  touch  and  voice. 
The  Harvester  arose,  and  passing  around  the  bed,  he 
placed  a  chair  for  Doctor  Harmon  and  motioning  for 
Doctor  Carey  left  the  room.  He  went  to  the  shore  to 
his  swimming  pool,  wearily  dropped  on  the  bench,  and 
stared  across  the  water. 

"Well  thank  God  it  worked,  anyway!"  he  muttered. 

"What's  that  popinjay  doing  here?"  thundered 
Doctor  Carey.  "Got  some  medicine  that  cures  every- 
body. Going  to  make  her  well,  is  he?  Make  the  cows, 
and  the  ducks,  and  the  chickens,  and  the  shitepokes  well, 

and  happy no  name  for  it!     After  this  we  are  all 

going  to  be  well  and  happy!  You  look  it  right  now, 
David!     What  under  Heaven  have  you  done?" 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  403 

"Left  my  wife  with  the  man  she  loves,  and  to  whom  I 
release  her,  my  dear  friend,"  said  the  Harvester.  "And 
it's  so  easy  for  me  that  you  needn't  give  making  it  a 
little  harder,  any  thought." 

"David,  forgive  me!"  cried  Doctor  Carey.  "I  don't 
understand  this.  I'm  almost  insane.  Will  you  tell 
me  what  it  means?" 

"Means  that  I  took  advantage  of  the  Girl's  illness,  utter 
loneliness,  and  fear,  and  forced  her  into  marrying  me  for 
shelter  and  care,  when  she  loved  and  wanted  another 
man,  who  was  preparing  to  come  to  her.  He  is  her  Chi- 
cago doctor,  and  fine  in  every  fibre,  as  you  can  see.  There 
is  only  one  thing  on  earth  for  me  to  do,  and  that  is  to 
get  out  of  their  way,  and  I'll  do  it  as  soon  as  she  is  well; 
but  I  vow  I  won't  leave  her  poor,  tired  body  until  she 
is,  not  even  for  him.  I  thought  sure  I  could  teach  her  to 
love  me!     Oh  but  this  is  bitter,  Doc!" 

"You  are  a  consummate  fool  to  bring  him  here!" 
cried  Doctor  Carey.  "If  she  is  too  sick  to  realize  the 
situation  now,  she  will  be  different  when  she  is  normal 
again.  Any  sane  girl  that  wouldn't  love  you,  David, 
ain't  fit  for  anything!" 

"Yes,  I'm  a  whale  of  a  lover!"  said  the  Harvester 
grimly.  "Nice  mess  I've  made  of  it.  But  there  is  no  real 
harm  done.  Thank  God,  Harmon  was  not  the  only 
white  man." 

"David,  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Is  it  between  us,  Doc?" 

"Yes." 


404  THE  HARVESTER 

"For    all    time?" 

"It  is." 

The  Harvester  told  him.  He  ended,  "Give  the  fellow 
his  dues,  Doc.  He  had  her  at  his  mercy,  utterly  alone 
and  unprotected,  in  a  big  city.  There  was  not  a  living 
soul  to  hold  him  to  account.  He  added  to  his  burdens, 
borrowed  more  money,  and  sent  her  here.  He  thought 
she  was  coming  to  the  country  where  she  would  be  safe 
and  well  cared  for  until  he  could  support  her.  I  did  the 
remainder.  Now  I  must  undo  it,  that's  all!  But 
you  have  got  to  go  in  there  and  practise  with  him. 
You've  got  to  show  him  every  courtesy  of  the  profession. 
You  must  go  a  little  over  the  rules,  and  teach  him  all 
you  can.  You  will  have  to  stifle  your  feelings,  and  be 
as  much  of  a  man  as  it  is  in  you  to  be,  at  your  level 
best." 

"I'm  no  good  at  stifling  my  feelings!" 

"Then  you'll  have  to  learn,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"If  you'd  lived  through  my  years  of  repression  in  the 
woods  you'd  do  the  fellow  credit.  As  I  see  it,  his  side 
of  this  is  nearly  as  fine  as  you  make  it.  I  tell  you  she  was 
utterly  stricken,  alone,  and  beautiful.  She  sought  his 
assistance.  When  the  end  came  he  thought  only  of  her. 
Won't  you  give  a  young  fellow  in  a  place  like  Chicago 
some  credit  for  that?  Can't  you  get  through  you  what 
it  means?" 

Doctor  Carey  stood  frowning  in  deep  thought,  but  the 
lines  of  his  face  gradually  changed. 

"I  suppose  I've  got  to  stomach  him,"  he  said. 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  405 

The  nurse  came  down  the  gravel  path. 

"Mr.  Langston,  Doctor  Harmon  asked  me  to  call 
you,"  she  said. 

The  Harvester  arose  and  went  to  the  sunshine  room. 

"What  does  he  want,  Molly?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Wants  to  turn  over  his  job,"  chuckled  the  nurse.  "He 
held  it  about  seven  minutes  in  peace,  and  then  she  began 
to  fret  and  call  for  the  Harvester.  He  just  sweat  blood 
to  pacify  her,  but  he  couldn't  make  it.  He  tried  to 
hold  her,  to  make  love  to  her,  and  goodness  knows  what, 
but  she  struggled  and  cried,  *  David,'  until  he  had  to  give 
it  up  and  send  me." 

"Molly,"  said  Doctor  Carey,  "we've  known  the  Har- 
vester a  long  time,  and  he  is  our  friend,  isn't  he?" 

"Of  course!"  said  the  nurse. 

"We  know  this  is  the  first  woman  he  ever  loved, 
probably  ever  will,  as  he  is  made.  Now  we  don't  like 
this  stranger  butting  in  here;  we  resent  it,  Molly.  We 
are  on  the  side  of  our  friend,  and  we  want  him  to  win. 
I'll  grant  that  this  fellow  is  fine,  and  that  he  has  done 
well,  but  what's  the  use  in  tearing  up  arrangements  al- 
ready made?  And  so  suitable!  Now  Molly,  you  are 
my  best  nurse,  and  a  good  reliable  aid  in  times  like  this. 
I  gave  you  instructions  an  hour  ago.  I'll  add  this  to 
them.  You  are  on  the  Harvesters  side.  Do  you  under- 
stand? In  this,  and  the  days  to  come,  you'll  have  a 
thousand  chances  to  put  in  a  lick  with  *  sick  woman. 
Put  them  in  as  I  tell  you." 

"Yes,  Doctor  Carey." 


4o6  THE  HARVESTER 

"And  Molly!  You  are  something  besides  my  best 
nurse.  You're  a  smashing  pretty  girl,  and  your  occu- 
pation should  make  you  especially  attractive  to  a  young 
doctor.  I'm  sure  this  fellow  is  all  right,  so  while  you  are 
doing  your  best  with  your  patient  for  the  Harvester,  why 
not  have  a  try  for  yourself  with  the  doctor?  It  couldn't 
do  any  harm,  and  it  might  straighten  out  matters.  Any- 
way, you  think  it  over." 

The  nurse  studied  his  face  silently  for  a  time,  and  then 
she  began  to  laugh  softly. 

"He  is  up  there  doing  his  best  with  her,"  she  said. 

The  doctor  threw  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  disdain, 
and  the  nurse  laughed  again;  but  her  cheeks  were  pink 
and  her  eyes  flashing  as  she  returned  to  duty. 

"Random  shot,  but  it  might  hit  something,  you 
never  can  tell,"  commented  the  doctor. 

The  Harvester  entered  the  Girl's  room  and  stood  still. 
She  was  fretting  and  raising  her  temperature  rapidly. 
Before  he  reached  the  door  his  heart  gave  one  great  leap 
at  the  sound  of  her  voice  calling  his  name.  He  knew  what 
to  do,  but  he  hesitated. 

"She  seems  to  have  become  accustomed  to  you,  and  at 
times  does  not  remember  me,"  said  Doctor  Harmon.  "I 
think  you  had  better  take  her  again  until  she  grows  quiet." 

The  Harvester  stepped  to  the  bed  and  looked  the 
doctor  in  the  eye. 

"I  am  afraid  I  left  out  one  important  feature  in  our 
little  talk  on  the  bridge,"  he  said.  "I  neglected  to  tell 
you  that  in  your  fight  for  this  woman's  life  and  love  you 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  407 

have  a  rival.  I  am  he.  She  is  my  wife,  and  with  the 
last  fibre  of  my  being  I  adore  her.  If  you  win,  and  she 
wants  you  to  take  her  away,  I  will  help  you;  but  my  heart 
goes  with  her  forever.  If  by  any  chance  it  should  occur 
that  I  have  been  mistaken  or  misinterpreted  her  delirium 
or  that  she  has  been  deceived  and  finds  she  prefers  me  and 
Medicine  Woods,  to  you  and  Chicago,  when  she  has  had 
opportunity  to  measure  us  man  against  man,  you  must 
understand  that  I  claim  her.  So  I  say  to  you  frankly, 
take  her  if  you  can,  but  don't  imagine  that  I  am  passive. 
I'll  help  you  if  I  know  she  wants  you,  but  I  fight  you 
every  inch  of  the  way.  Only  it  has  got  to  be  square  and 
open.     Do  you  understand?" 

"You  are  certainly  sufficiently  clear." 

"  No  man  who  is  half  a  man  sees  the  last  chance  of 
happiness  go  out  of  his  life  without  putting  up  the  stiffest 
battle  he  knows,"  said  the  Harvester  grimly.  "Ruth- 
girl,  you  are  raising  the  fever  again.     You  must  be  quiet." 

With  infinite  tenderness  he  possessed  himself  of  her 
hands  and  began  stroking  her  hair,  and  in  a  low  and  sooth- 
ing voice  the  story  of  the  birds,  flowers,  lake,  and  woods  • 
went  on.  To  keep  it  from  growing  monotonous  the 
Harvester  branched  out  and  put  in  everything  he  knew. 
In  the  days  that  followed  he  held  a  position  none  could 
take  from  him.  While  the  doctors  fought  the  fever, 
he  worked  for  rest  and  quiet,  and  soothed  the  tortured 
body  as  best  he  could,  that  the  medicines  might  act. 

But  the  fever  was  stubborn,  and  the  remedies  were 
slow;  and  long  before  the  dreaded  coming  day  the  doctors 


408  THE  HARVESTER 

and  nurse  were  quietly  saying  to  each  other  that  when 
the  crisis  came  the  heart  would  fail.  There  was  no 
vitality  to  sustain  life.  But  they  did  not  dare  tell  the 
Harvester.  Day  and  night  he  sat  beside  the  maple 
bed  or  stretched  sleeping  a  few  minutes  on  the  couch 
while  the  Girl  slept;  and  with  faith  never  faltering  and 
courage  unequalled,  he  warned  them  to  have  their  reme- 
dies and  appliances  ready. 

"I  don't  say  it's  going  to  be  easy,"  he  said.  "I  just 
merely  state  that  it  must  be  done.  And  I'll  also  mention 
that,  when  the  hour  comes,  the  man  who  discovers  that 
he  could  do  something  if  he  had  digitalis,  or  a  remedy  he 
should  have  had  ready  and  has  forgotten,  that  man  had 
better  keep  out  of  my  sight.  Make  your  preparations 
now.  Talk  the  case  over.  Fill  your  hypodermics.  Clean 
your  air  pumps.  Get  your  hot-water  bottles  ready. 
Have  system.  Label  your  stuff  large  and  set  it  conven- 
iently.    You  see  what  is  coming,  be  prepared!" 

One  day,  while  the  Girl  lay  in  a  half-drugged,  feverish 
sleep,  the  Harvester  went  for  a  swim.  He  dressed  a  little 
sooner  than  was  expected  and  in  crossing  the  living-room 
he  heard  Doctor  Harmon  say  to  Doctor  Carey  on  the 
veranda,  "What  are  we  going  to  do  with  him  when  the 
end  comes?" 

The  Harvester  stepped  to  the  door.  "That  won't 
be  the  question,"  he  said  grimly.  "It  will  be  what  will 
he  do  with  us?" 

Then,  with  an  almost  imperceptible  movement,  he 
caught  Doctor  Harmon  at  the  waist  line,  and  lifted  and 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  409 

dangled  him  as  a  baby,  and  then  stood  him  on  the  floor. 
"Didn't  hardly  expect  that  much  muscle,  did  you?" 
he  inquired  lightly.  "And  I'm  not  in  what  you  could  call 
condition,  either.  Instead  of  wasting  any  time  on  fool 
questions  like  that,  you  two  go  over  your  stuff  and  ask 
each  other,  have  we  got  every  last  appliance  known  to 
physics  and  surgery?  Have  we  got  duplicates  on  hand 
in  case  we  break  delicate  instruments  like  hypodermic 
syringes  and  that  sort  of  thing?  Engage  yourselves  with 
questions  pertaining  to  life;  that  is  your  business.  In- 
stead of  planning  what  you'll  do  in  failure,  bolster  your 
souls  against  it.  Granny  Moreland  beats  you  two  put 
together  in  grip  and  courage." 

The  Harvester  returned  to  his  task,  and  the  fight  went 
on.  At  last  the  hour  came  when  the  temperature  fell 
lower  and  lower.  The  feeble  pulses  flickered  and  grew 
indiscernible;  a  gray  pallor  hovered  over  the  Girl,  and  a 
cold  sweat  stood  on  her  temples. 

"Now!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Exercise  your  calling! 
Fight  like  men  or  devils,  but  win  you  must." 

.They  did  work.  They  administered  stimulants;  ap- 
plied heat  to  the  chilled  body;  fans  swept  the  room  with 
vitalized  air;  hypodermics  were  used;  and  every  last  resort 
known  to  science  was  given  a  full  test,  and  the  weak 
heart  throbbed  slower  and  slower,  and  life  ran  out  with 
each  breath.  The  Harvester  stood  waiting  with  set 
jaws.  He  could  dectect  no  change  for  the  better.  At 
last  he  picked  up  a  chilled  hand  and  could  discover  no 
pulse,  and  the  gray  nails  and  the  dark  tips  told  a  story 


410  THE  HARVESTER 

of  arrested  circulation.  He  laid  down  the  hand  and 
faced  the  men. 

"This  is  what  you'd  call  the  crisis,  Doc?"  he  asked 
gently. 

"Yes." 

"Are  you  stemming  it?  Are  you  stemming  it?  Are 
you  sure  she  is  holding  her  own?" 

Doctor  Carey  looked  at  him  silently. 

"Have  you  done  all  you  can  do?"  asked  the  Harvester. 

"Yes." 

"You  believe  her  going  out?" 

"Yes." 

The  Harvester  turned  to  Doctor  Harmon.  "Do  you 
concur  in  that?" 

"Yes." 

Then  to  the  nurse,  "And  you?" 

"Yes." 

"Then,"  said  the  Harvester,  "all  of  you  are  useless. 
Get  out  of  here.  I  don't  want  your  atmosphere.  If  you 
can  believe  only  in  death,  leave  us!  She  is  my  wife,  and 
if  this  is  the  end  she  belongs  to  me,  and  I  will  do  as  I 
choose  with  her.     All  of  you  go!" 

The  Harvester  stepped  to  the  bathroom  door  and 
called  Granny  Moreland.  "Granny,"  he  said,  "science 
has  turned  tail,  and  left  me  in  extremity.  Fill  your  hot- 
water  bottles  and  come  in  here  with  your  heart  big  with 
hope  and  help  me  save  my  Dream  Girl.  She  is  breath- 
ing Granny;  we've  got  to  make  her  keep  it  up,  that's 
all just  keep  her  breathing." 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  411 

He  returned  to  the  sunshine  room,  placed  a  small 
table  beside  the  bed,  and  on  it  a  glass  of  water,  spoon,  and 
a  hypodermic  syringe.  When  Granny  Moreland  came 
he  said:  "Now  you  begin  on  her  feet  and  rub  with  long, 
sweeping,  upward  strokes  to  drive  the  blood  to  her  heart." 

Around  the  Girl  he  piled  hot-water  bottles  and  breath- 
lessly hung  over  her,  rubbing  her  hands.  He  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  her  forehead,  and  then  dropped 
by  her  bed  and  for  a  second  laid  his  face  on  her  cold 
palm. 

"If  I  am  wrong,  Heaven  forgive  me,"  he  prayed. 
"And  you,  oh,  my  darling  Dream  Girl,  forgive  me,  but 
I  am  forced  to  try God  helping  me!     Amen." 

He  arose,  took  a  small  bottle  from  his  pocket,  filled 
the  spoon  with  water,  and  measured  into  it  three  drops 
of  liquid  as  yellow  as  gold.  Then  he  held  the  spoon  to 
the  blue  lips,  and  with  his  fingers  worked  apart  the  set 
teeth,  and  poured  the  medicine  down  her  throat.  Then 
they  rubbed  and  muttered  snatches  of  prayer  for  fifteen 
minutes  when  the  Harvester  administered  another  three 
drops.  It  might  have  been  fancy,  but  it  seemed  to  him 
her  jaws  were  not  so  stiff.  Faster  flew  his  hands  and  he 
sent  Granny  Moreland  to  refill  the  hot  bottles.  When 
he  gave  the  Girl  the  third  dose  he  injected  some  of 
the  liquid  over  her  heart  and  of  the  glycerine  the  doctors 
had  left,  in  the  extremities.  He  released  more  air  and 
began  rubbing  again. 

The  second  hour  started  in  the  same  way,  and  ended 
with  slowly  relaxing  muscles  and  faint  tinges  of  colour 


412  THE  HARVESTER 

in  the  white  cheeks.  The  feet  were  not  so  cold,  and  when 
the  Harvester  held  the  spoon  he  knew  that  the  Girl 
made  an  effort  to  swallow,  and  he  could  see  her  eyelids 
tremble.  Thereupon  he  pointed  these  signs  to  Granny, 
and  implored  her  to  rub  and  pray,  and  pray  and  rub, 
while  he  worked  until  the  perspiration  rolled  down  his 
gray  face.  At  the  end  of  the  second  hour  he  began  de- 
creasing the  doses  and  shortening  the  time,  and  again  he 
commenced  in  a  low  rumble  his  song  of  life  and  health, 
to  encourage  the  Girl  as  consciousness  returned. 

Occasionally  Doctor  Carey  opened  the  door  slightly 
and  peeped  in  to  see  if  he  were  wanted,  but  he  received 
no  invitation  to  enter.  The  last  time  he  left  with  the 
impression  that  the  Harvester  was  raving,  while  he 
worked  over  a  lifeless  body.  He  had  the  Girl  warmly 
covered  and  bent  over  her  face  and  hands.  At  her  feet 
crouched  Granny  Moreland,  rubbing,  still  rubbing,  be- 
neath the  covers,  while  in  a  steady  stream  the  Har- 
vester was  pouring  out  his  song.  If  he  had  listened 
an  instant  longer  he  would  have  recognized  that  the  tone 
and  the  words  had  changed.  Now  it  was,  "Gently, 
breathe  gently,  Girl!  Slowly,  steadily,  easily!  Deeper, 
a  little  deeper,  Ruth!  Brave  Girl,  never  another  so 
wonderful!  That's  my  Dream  Girl  coming  from  the 
shadows,  coming  to  life's  sunshine,  coming  to  hope,  com- 
ing to  love!  Deeper,  just  a  little  deeper!  Smoothly  and 
evenly!  You  are  making  it,  Girl!  You  are  making  it! 
By  all  that  is  holy  and  glorious!  Stick  to  it,  Ruth,  hold 
tight    to    me!     I'll    help    you,    dear!     You    are    coming, 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  413 

coming  back  to  life  and  love.  Don't  worry  yourself 
trying  too  hard,  if  only  you  can  send  every  breath  as 
deeply  as  the  last  one,  you  can  make  it.  You  brave  girl! 
You  wonderful  Dream  Girl!  Ah,  Ruth,  the  name  of  this 
is  victory!" 

An  hour  before  Doctor  Carey  had  said  to  Doctor 
Harmon  and  the  nurse,  as  he  softly  closed  the  door:  "It 
is  over  and  the  Harvester  is  raving.  We'll  give  him  a 
little  more  time  and  see  if  he  won't  realize  it  himself. 
That  will  be  easier  for  him  than  for  us  to  try  to  tell 
him." 

Now  he  opened  the  door,  stared  a  second,  and  coming 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed,  he  leaned  over  the  Girl. 
Then  he  felt  her  feet.  They  were  warm  and  slightly 
damp.  A  surprised  look  crept  over  his  face.  He  gently 
reached  for  a  hand  that  the  Harvester  yielded  to  him. 
It  was  warm,  the  blue  tips  becoming  rosy,  the  wrist 
pulse  discernible.  Then  he  bent  closer,  touched  her  face, 
and  saw  the  tremulous  eyelids.  He  turned  back  the 
cover,  and  held  his  ear  over  her  heart.  When  he  straight- 
ened, "As  God  lives,  she's  got  a  chance,  David!"  he 
exulted  in  an  awed  whisper. 

The  Harvester  lifted  a  graven  face,  down  which  the 
sweat  of  agony  rolled,  and  his  lips  parted  in  a  twitching 
smile.  "Then  this  is  where  love  beats  the  doctors, 
Carey!"  he  said. 

"It  is  where  love  has  ventured  what  science  dares  not. 
Love  didn't  do  all  of  this.  In  the  name  of  the  Almighty, 
what  did  you  give  her,  David?" 


4H  THE  HARVESTER 

"Life!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "Life!  Come  on,  Ruth, 
come  on!  Out  of  the  valley  come  to  me!  You 
are  well  now,  Girl!  It's  all  over!  The  last  trace 
of  fever  is  gone,  the  last  of  the  dull  ache.  Can 
you  swallow  just  two  more  drops  of  bottled  sun- 
shine, Ruth?" 

The  flickering  lids  slowly  opened,  and  the  big  black 
eyes  looked  straight  into  the  Harvester's.  He  met  them 
steadily,  smiling  encouragement. 

"Hang  on  to  each  breath,  dear  heart!"  he  urged. 
"The  fever  is  gone.  The  pain  is  over!  Long  life  and 
the  love  you  crave  are  for  you.  You've  only  to  keep 
breathing  a  few  more  hours  and  the  battle  is  yours. 
Glorious  Girl!  Noble!  You  are  doing  finely!  Ruth, 
do  you  know  me?" 

Her  lips  moved. 

"Don't  try  to  speak,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Don't 
waste  breath  on  a  word.  Save  the  good  oxygen  to 
strengthen  your  tired  body.  But  if  you  do  know  me, 
maybe  you  could  smile,  Ruth!" 

She  could  just  smile,  and  that  was  all.  Feeble,  flick- 
ering, transient,  but  as  it  crossed  the  living  face  the 
Harvester  lifted  her  hands  and  kissed  them  over  and 
over,  back,  palm,  and  finger  tips. 

"Now  just  one  more  drop,  honey,  and  then  a  long  rest. 
Will  you  try  it  again  for  me?" 

She  assented,  and  the  Harvester  took  the  bottle  from 
his  pocket,  poured  the  drop,  and  held  the  spoon  to  will- 
ing lips.     The  big  eyes  were  on  him  with  a  question. 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  415 

Then    they   fell    to   the    spoon.     The   Harvester   under- 
stood. 

"Yes,  it's  mine!  It's  got  sixty  years  of  wonderful 
life  in  it,  every  one  of  them  full  of  love  and  happiness 
for  my  dear  Dream  Girl.     Can  you  take  it,  Ruth?" 

Her  lips  parted,  the  wine  of  life  passed  between.  She 
smiled  faintly,  and  her  eyelids  dropped  shut,  but  pres- 
ently they  opened  again. 

"David!" 

"My  Dream  Girl!" 

"Harvester?" 

"Yes!" 

"Medicine  Man?" 

"  Don't,  Ruth !     Save  every  breath  to  help  your  heart." 

"Life?" 

"Life  it  is,  Girl!"  exulted  the  Harvester.  "Long 
life!  Love!  Home!  The  man  you  love!  Every  hap- 
piness that  ever  came  to  a  girl!  Nothing  shall  be  denied 
you!  Nothing  shall  be  lacking!  It's  all  in  your  hands 
now,  Ruth.  We've  all  done  everything  we  can;  you  must 
do  the  remainder.  It's  your  work  to  send  every  breath 
as  deeply  as  you  can.  Doc,  release  another  tank  of  air. 
Are  her  feet  warm,  Granny?  Let  the  nurse  take  your 
place  now.  And,  honey,  go  to  sleep!  I'll  keep  watch 
for  you.  I'll  measure  each  breath  you  draw.  If  they 
shorten  or  weaken,  I'll  wake  you  for  more  medicine.  You 
can  trust  me!     Always  you  can  trust  me,  Ruth." 

The  Girl  smiled  and  fell  into  a  light,  even  slumber. 
Granny  Moreland  stumbled  to  the  couch  and  rolled  on 


416  THE  HARVESTER 

it  sobbing  with  nervous  exhaustion.  Doctor  Carey 
called  the  nurse  to  take  her  place.  Then  he  came  to  the 
Harvester's  side  and  whispered,  "Let  me,  David!" 

The  Harvester  looked  up  with  his  queer  grin,  but  he 
made  no  motion  to  arise. 

"Won't  you  trust  me,  David?  I'll  watch  as  if  it 
were  my  own  wife." 

"I  wouldn't  trust  any  man  on  earthy  for  the  coming 
three  hours,"  replied  the  Harvester.  "If  I  keep  this 
up  that  long,  she  is  safe.     Go  and  rest  until  I  call  you." 

He  again  bent  over  the  Girl,  one  hand  on  her  left 
wrist,  the  other  over  her  heart,  his  eyes  on  her  lips, 
watching  the  depth  and  strength  of  her  every  breath. 
Regularly  he  administered  the  medicine  he  was  giving 
her.  Sometimes  she  took  it  half  asleep;  again  she  gave 
him  a  smile  that  to  the  Harvester  was  the  supreme  thing 
of  earth  or  Heaven.  Toward  the  end  of  the  long  vigil, 
in  exhaustion  he  slipped  to  the  floor,  and  laid  his  head  on 
the  side  of  the  bed,  and  for  a  second  his  hand  relaxed  and 
he  fell  asleep.  The  Girl  awakened  as  his  touch  loosened 
and  looking  down  she  saw  his  huddled  body.  A  second 
later  the  Harvester  awoke  with  a  guilty  start  to  find  her 
fingers  twisted  in  the  shock  of  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head. 

"Poor  stranded  Girl,"  he  muttered.  "She's  clinging 
to  me  for  life,  and  you  can  stake  all  you  are  worth  she's 
going  to  get  it!" 

Then  he  gently  relaxed  her  grip,  gave  her  the  last  dose 
he  felt  necessary,  yielded  his  place  to  Doctor  Carey  and 
staggered  up  the  hill.     As  the  sun  peeped  over  Medicine 


LOVE  INVADES  SCIENCE  417 

Woods  he  stretched  himself  between  the  two  mounds 
under  the  oak,  and  for  a  few  minutes  his  body  was  rent 
with  the  awful,  torn  sobbing  of  a  strong  man.  Bel- 
shazzar  nosed  the  twisting  figure  and  whined  pitifully.  A 
chattering  little  marsh  wren  tilted  on  a  bush  and  scolded. 
A  blue  jay  perched  above  and  tried  to  decide  whether 
there  was  cause  for  an  alarm  signal.  A  snake  coming  from 
the  water  to  hunt  birds  ran  close  to  him,  and  chang- 
ing its  course,  went  weaving  away  among  the  mosses. 
Gradually  the  pent  forces  spent  themselves,  and  for  hours 
the  Harvester  lay  in  the  deep  sleep  of  exhaustion,  and 
stretched  beside  him,  Belshazzar  guarded  with  anxious 
dog  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  Better  Man 

IN  THE  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  Harvester 
arose  and  went  into  the  lake,  ate  a  hearty 
dinner,  and  then  took  up  his  watch  again.  For 
two  days  and  nights  he  kept  his  place,  until  he  had  the 
Girl  out  of  danger,  and  where  careful  nursing  was  all  that 
was  required  to  insure  life  and  health.  As  he  sat  beside 
her  the  last  day,  his  physical  endurance  strained  to  the 
breaking  point,  she  laid  her  hand  over  his,  and  looked 
long  and  steadily  into  his  eyes. 

"There  are  so  many  things  I  want  to  know,"  she  said. 

The  Harvester's  firm  fingers  closed  over  hers.  "Ruth, 
have  you  ever  been  sorry  that  you  trusted  me?" 

"Never!"  said  the  Girl  instantly. 

"Then  suppose  you  keep  it  up,"  said  he.  "What- 
ever it  is  that  you  want  to  know,  don't  use  an  iota  of 
strength  to  talk  or  to  think  about  it  now.  Just  say  to 
yourself,  he  loves  me  well  enough  to  do  what  is  right,  and 
I  know  that  he  will.  All  you  have  to  do  is  to  be  patient 
until  you  grow  stronger  than  you  ever  have  been  in  your 
life,  and  then  you  shall  have  exactly  what  you  want, 
Ruth.  Sleep  like  a  baby  for  a  week  or  two.  Then, 
slowly  and  gradually,  we  will  build  up  such  a  constitution 

418 


THE  BETTER  MAN  419 

for  you  that  you  shall  ride,  drive,  row,  swim,  dance, 
play,  and  have  all  that  your  girlhood  has  missed  in  fun 
and  frolic,  and  all  that  your  womanhood  craves  in  love 
and  companionship.  Happiness  has  come  at  last,  Ruth. 
Take  it  from  me.  Everything  you  crave  is  yours.  The 
love  you  want,  the  home,  and  the  life.  As  soon 
as  you  are  strong  enough,  you  shall  know  all  about 
it.  Your  business  is  to  drink  stimulants  and  sleep 
now,  dear." 

"So  tired  of  this  bed!" 

"It  won't  be  long  until  you  can  lie  on  the  couch  and 
the  veranda  swing  again." 

"Glory!"  said  the  Girl.  "David,  I  must  have  been 
full  of  fever  for  a  long  time.  I  can't  remember  every- 
thing." 

"Don't  try,  I  tell  you.  Life  is  coming  out  right  for 
you;   that's  all  you  need  know  now." 

"And  for  you,  David?" 

"Whenever  things  are  right  for  you,  they  are  for  me, 
Ruth." 

"Don't  you  ever  think  of  yourself?" 

"Not  when  I  am  close  you." 

"Ah!  Then  I  shall  have  to  grow  strong  very  soon  and 
think  of  you." 

The  Harvester's  smile  was  pathetic.  He  was  un- 
speakably tired  again. 

"Never  mind  me!"  he  said.     "Only  get  well." 

"David,  was  there  a  little  horse?" 

"There   certainly   was    and    is,"    said    the   Harvester. 


420  THE  HARVESTER 

"You  had  not  named  him  yet,  but  in  a  few  days  I  can 
lead  him  to  the  window." 

"Was  there  something  said  about  a  boat?" 

"Two  of  them." 

"Two?" 

"Yes.  A  row  boat  for  you,  and  a  launch  that  will 
take  you  all  over  the  lake  with  only  the  exertion  of  steer- 
ing on  your  part." 

"David,  I  want  my  pendant  and  ring.  I  am  so  tired 
of  lying  here,  I  want  to  play  with  them." 

"Where  do  you  keep  them,  Ruth?" 

"In  the  willow  teapot.  I  thought  no  one  would  look 
there." 

The  Harvester  laughed  and  brought  the  little  boxes. 
He  had  to  open  them,  but  the  Girl  put  on  the  ring  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  not  help  her  with  the  pendant.  He 
slipped  the  thread  around  her  neck  and  clasped  it.  With 
a  sigh  of  satisfaction  she  took  the  ornament  in  one  hand 
and  closed  her  eyes.  He  thought  she  was  falling  asleep, 
but  presently  she  looked  at  him. 

"You  won't  allow  them  to  take  it  from  me?" 

"Indeed  no!  There  is  no  reason  on  earth  why  you 
should  not  have  that  thread  around  your  neck  if  you  want 
it." 

"I  am  going  to  sleep  now.  I  want  two  things.  May 
I  have  them?" 

"You  may,"  said  the  Harvester  promptly,  "provided 
they  are  not  to  eat." 

"No,"  said  the  Girl.     "I've  suffered  and  made  others 


THE  BETTER  MAN  421 

trouble.  I  won't  bother  you  by  asking  for  anything  more 
than  is  brought  me.  This  is  different.  You  are  com- 
pletely worn  out.  Your  face  frightens  me,  David,  and 
white  hairs  that  were  not  there  a  few  days  ago  have  come 
along  your  temples.     I  can  see  them." 

"You  gave  me  a  mighty  serious  scare,  Ruth." 
"I  know,"  said  the  Girl.  "Forgive  me.  I  didn't 
mean  to.  I  want  you  to  leave  me  to  Doctor  Harmon 
and  the  nurse  and  go  sleep  a  week.  Then  I  will  be  ready 
for  the  swing,  and  to  hear  some  more  about  the  trees  and 
birds." 

"I  can  keep  it  up  if  you  really  need  me,  but  if  you  don't 
I  am  sleepy.     So,  if  you  feel  safe,  I  think  I  will  go." 

"Oh  I  am  safe  enough,"  said  the  Girl.  "It  isn't  that. 
I'm  so  lonely.  I've  made  up  my  mind  not  to  grieve  for 
mother,  but  I  miss  her  so  now.     I  feel  so  friendless." 

"But,  honey,"  said  the  Harvester,  "you  mustn't  do 
that!  Don't  you  see  how  all  of  us  love  you?  Here  is 
Granny  shutting  up  her  house  and  living  here,  just  to 
be  with  you.  The  nurse  will  do  anything  you  say.  Here 
is  the  man  you  know  best,  and  think  so  much  of,  staying 
in  the  cabin,  and  so  happy  to  give  you  all  his  time,  and 
anything  else  you  will  have,  dear.  And  the  Careys 
come  every  day,  and  will  do  their  best  to  comfort  you, 
and  always  I  am  here  for  you  to  fall  back  on." 

"Yes,  I'm  falling  right  now,"  said  the  Girl.     "I  al- 
most wish  I  had  the  fever  again.     No  one  has  touched 
me  for  days.     I  feel  as  if  every  one  was  afraid  of  me." 
The  Harvester  was  puzzled. 


422  THE  HARVESTER 

"Well,  Ruth,  I'm  doing  the  best  I  know,"  he  said. 
"What  is  it  you  want?" 

"Nothing!"  answered  the  Girl  with  slightly  dejected 
inflection.  "  Say  good-bye  to  me,  and  go  sleep  your  week. 
I'll  be  very  good,  and  then  you  shall  take  me  a  drive  up 
the  hill  when  you  awaken.     Won't  that  be  fine?" 

"Say  good-bye  to  me!"  She  felt  a  "little  lonely!" 
They  all  acted  as  if  they  were  "afraid"  of  her.  The 
Harvester  indulged  in  a  flashing  mental  review  and 
arrived  at  a  decision.  He  knelt  beside  the  bed,  took  both 
slender,  cool  hands  and  covered  them  with  kisses.  Then 
he  slid  a  hand  under  the  pillow  and  raised  the  tired  head. 

"If  I  am  to  say  good-bye,  I  have  to  do  it  in  my  own 
way,  Ruth,"  he  said. 

Thereupon  he  began  at  the  tumbled  mass  of  hair  and 
kissed  from  her  forehead  to  her  lips,  kisses  warm  and 
tender. 

"Now  you  go  to  sleep,  and  grow  strong  enough  by  the 
time  I  come  back  to  tell  me  whom  you  love,"  he  said, 
and  went  from  the  room  without  waiting  for  any  reply. 

With  short  intervals  for  food  and  dips  in  the  lake  the 
Harvester  very  nearly  slept  the  week.  When  he  finally 
felt  himself  again,  he  bathed,  shaved,  dressed  freshly, 
and  went  to  see  the  Girl.  He  had  to  touch  her  to  be 
sure  she  was  real.  She  was  extremely  weak  and  tremu- 
lous, but  her  face  and  hands  were  fuller,  her  colour 
was  good,  she  was  ravenously  hungry.  Doctor  Harmon 
said  she  was  a  little  tryant,  and  the  nurse  that  she  was 
plain  cross.     The  first  thing  the  Harvester  noticed  was 


THE  BETTER  MAN  423 

that  the  dull  blue  look  in  the  depth  of  the  dark  eyes  was 
gone.  They  were  clear,  dusky  wells,  with  shining 
lights  at  the  bottom. 

"Well  I  never  would  have  believed  it!"  he  cried. 
"Doctor  Harmon,  you  are  a  great  physician!  You  have 
made  her  all  over  new,  and  in  a  few  more  days  she  will 
be  on  the  veranda.     This  is  great!" 

"Do  I  appear  so  much  better  to  you,  Harvester?" 
asked  the  Girl. 

"Has  no  one  thought  to  show  you,"  cried  the  Har- 
vester.    "Here,  let  me!" 

He  stepped  to  her  dressing  table,  picked  up  a  mirror, 
and  held  it  before  her  so  that  she  could  see  herself. 
"Seems  to  me  I  am  dreadfully  white  and  thin  yet!" 
"If  you  had  seen  what  I  saw  ten  days  ago,  my  Girl, 
you  would  think  you  appear  like  a  pink,  rosy  angel  now, 
or  a  wonderful  dream." 

"Truly,  do  I  in  the.  least  resemble  a  dream,  David?" 
"You  are  a  dream.  The  loveliest  one  a  man  ever  had. 
With  three  months  of  right  care  and  exercise  you'll 
be  the  beautiful  woman  nature  intended.  I'm  so  proud 
of  you.  You  are  being  so  brave!  Just  lie  there  in 
patience  a  few  more  days,  and  out  you  come  again  to  life; 
and  life  that  will  thrill  your  being  with  joy." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Girl,   "I  will.     David  are  you 
attending  to  your  herbs?" 
"Not  for  a  few  weeks." 
"You  are  very  much  behind?" 
"No.     Nothing    important.     I    don't    make    enough 


424  THE  HARVESTER 

to  count  on  what  is  ready  now.  I  can  soon  gather 
jimson  leaves  and  seed  to  fill  orders,  the  hemlock  is 
about  right  to  take  the  fruit,  the  mustard  is  yet  in  pod, 
and  the  saffron  and  wormseed  can  be  attended  later. 
I  can  catch  up  in  two  days." 

"What  about about  the  big  bed  on  the  hill?" 

The  Harvester  experienced  an  inward  thrill  of  delight. 
She  was  so  impressed  with  the  value  of  the  ginseng  she 

would  not  mention  it,  even  before  the  man  she  loved 

no    more    than    that "adored" "worshipped!" 

He  smiled  at  her  in  understanding. 

'Til  have  to  take  a  peep  at  that  and  report,"  he  said. 

"Are  you  rested  now?" 

"Indeed  yes!" 

"You  are  dreadfully  thin." 

"I  always  am.  I'll  pick  up  a  little  when  I  get  back  to 
work." 

"David,  I  want  you  to  go  to  work  now." 

"Can  you  spare  me?" 

"Haven't  we  done  well  these  last  few  days?" 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  well." 

"Then  please  go  gather  everything  you  need  to  fill 
orders  except  the  big  bed,  and  by  that  time  maybe  you 
could  take  another  week  off,  and  I  could  go  to  the  hill 
top  and  on  the  lake.  I'm  so  anxious  to  put  my  feet  on 
the  earth.     They  feel  so  dead." 

"Are  your  feet  well  rubbed  to  draw  down  the  circu- 
lation?" 

"They  are  rubbed  shiny  and  almost  skinned,  David. 


THE  BETTER  MAN  425 

No  one  ever  had  better  care,  of  that  I  am  sure.  Go 
gather  what  you  should  have." 

"All  right,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  arose  and  as  he  started  to  leave  the  room  he  took 
one  last  look  at  the  Girl  to  see  if  he  could  detect  anything 
he  could  suggest  for  her  comfort,  and  read  a  message 
in  her  eyes.  Instantly  there  was  an  answering  flash 
in  his. 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  minute,"  he  said.  "I  just  noticed 
discorea  villosa  has  the  finest  rattle  boxes  formed.  I've 
been  waiting  to  show  you.  And  the  hop  tree  has  its 
castanets  all  green  and  gold.  In  a  few  more  weeks  it 
will  begin  to  play  for  you.     I'll  bring  you  some." 

Soon  he  returned  with  the  queer  seed  formations,  and 
as  he  bent  above  her,  with  his  back  to  Doctor  Harmon,  he 
whispered,    "What  is  it?" 

Her  lips  barely  formed  the  one  word,  "Hurry!" 

The  Harvester  straightened. 

"All  comfortable,  Ruth?"  he  asked  casually. 

"Yes." 

"You  understand,  of  course,  that  there  is  not  the 
slightest  necessity  for  my  going  to  work  if  you  really 
want  me  for  anything,  even  if  it's  nothing  more  than  to 
have  me  within  calling  distance,  in  case  you  should 
want  something.  The  whole  lot  I  can  gather  now  won't 
amount  to  twenty  dollars.  It's  merely  a  matter  of 
pride  with  me  to  have  what  is  called  for.  I'd  much  rather 
remain,  if  you  can  use  me  in  any  way  at  all." 

"Twenty  dollars   is  considerable,   when  expenses   are 


426  THE  HARVESTER 

as  heavy  as  now.  And  it's  worth  more  than  any  money 
to  you  not  to  fail  when  orders  come.  I  have  learned  that, 
and  David,  I  don't  want  you  to  either.  You  must  fill 
all  demands  as  usual.  I  wouldn't  forgive  myself  this 
winter  if  you  should  be  forced  to  send  orders  only  partly 
filled  because  I  fell  ill  and  hindered  you.  Please  go  and 
gather  all  you  possibly  will  need  of  everything  you  take 
at  this  season,  only  remember!" 

"There  is  no  danger  of  my  forgetting.  If  you  are  go- 
ing to  send  me  away  to  work,  you  will  allow  me  to  kiss 
your  hand  before  I  go,  fair  lady?" 

He  did  it  fervently. 

"One  word  with  you,  Harmon,"  he  said  as  he  left  the 
room. 

Doctor  Harmon  arose  and  followed  him  to  the  gold 
garden,  and  together  they  stood  beside  the  molten  hedge 
of  sunflowers,  conenowers,  elecampane,  and  jewel  flower. 

"I  merely  want  to  mention  that  this  is  your  inning," 
said  the  Harvester.  "Find  out  if  you  are  essential  to  the 
Girl's  happiness  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  the  day  she  tells 
me  so,  I  will  file  her  petition  and  take  a  trip  to  the  city 
to  study  some  little  chemical  quirks  that  bother  me. 
That's  all." 

The  Harvester  went  to  the  dry-house  for  bags  and 
clipping  shears,  and  the  doctor  returned  to  the  sun- 
shine  room. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  "do  you  know  that  the  Harvester 
is  the  squarest  man  I  ever  met?" 

"Is  he?"  asked  the  Girl. 


THE  BETTER  MAN  427 

"He  is!     He  certainly  is!" 

"You  must  remember  that  I  have  little  acquaintance 
with  men,"  said  she.  "You  are  the  first  one  I  ever  knew, 
and  the  only  one  except  him." 

"Well  I  try  to  be  square,"  said  Doctor  Harmon, 
"but  that  is  where  Langston  has  me  beaten  a  mile.  I 
have  to  try.     He  doesn't.     He  was  born  that  way." 

The  Girl  began  to  laugh. 

"His  environment  is  so  different,"  she  said.  "Per- 
haps if  he  were  in  a  big  city,  he  would  have  to  try 
also." 

"Won't  do!"  said  the  doctor.  "He  chose  his  location. 
So  did  I.  He  is  a  stronger  physical  man  than  I  ever  was 
or  ever  will  be.  The  struggle  that  bound  him  to  the 
woods  and  to  research,  that  made  him  the  master  of 
forces  that  give  back  life,  when  a  man  like  Carey  says 
it  is  the  end,  proves  him  a  master.  The  tumult  in  his 
soul  must  have  been  like  a  cyclone  in  his  forest,  when  he 
turned  his  back  on  the  world  and  stuck  to  the  woods. 
Carey  told  me  about  it.  Some  day  you  must  hear.  It's 
a  story  a  woman  ought  to  know  in  order  to  arrive  at 
proper  values.  You  never  will  understand  the  man  un- 
til you  know  that  he  is  clean  where  most  of  us  are  black- 
ened with  ugly  sins  we  have  no  right  on  God's  footstool 
to  commit  and  not  so  much  reason  as  he.  Every  man 
should  be  as  he  is,  but  very  few  are.  Carey  says  Lang- 
ston's  mother  was  a  wonderful  element  in  the  formation 
of  his  character;  but  all  mothers  are  anxious,  and  none 
of  them  can  build  with  no  foundation  and  no  soul  timber. 


428  THE  HARVESTER 

She  had  material  for  a  man  to  her  hand,  or  she  couldn't 
have  made  one." 

"I  see  what  you  mean." 

"So  far  as  any  inexperienced  girl  ever  sees,"  said  the 
doctor.  "Some  day  if  you  live  to  fifty  you  will  know, 
but  you  can't  comprehend  it  now." 

"If  you  think  I  lived  all  my  life  in  Chicago's  poverty 
spots  and  don't  know  unbridled  human  nature!" 

"I  found  you  and  your  mother  unusually  innocent 
women.  You  may  understand  some  things.  I  hope 
you  do.  It  will  help  you  to  decide  who  is  the  real  man 
among  the  men  who  come  into  your  life.  There  are 
some  men,  Ruth,  who  are  fit  to  mate  with  a  woman, 
and  to  perpetuate  themselves  and  their  mental  and 
moral  forces  in  children,  who  will  be  like  them,  and  there 
are  others  who  are  not.  It  is  these  'others'  who  are 
responsible  for  the  sin  of  the  world,  the  sickness  and 
suffering.  Any  time  you  are  sure  you  have  a  chance  at  a 
moral  man,  square  and  honest,  in  control  of  his  brain  and 
body,  if  you  are  a  wise  woman,  Ruth,  stick  to  him  as  the 
limpet  to  the  rock." 

"You  mean  stick  to  the  Harvester?" 

"If  you  are  a  wise  woman!" 

"When  was  a  woman  ever  wise?" 

"A  few  have  been.  They  are  the  only  care-free, 
really  happy  ones  of  the  world,  the  only  wives  without 
a  big,  poison,  blue-bottle  fly  in  their  ointment." 

"I  detest  flies!"  said  the  Girl. 

"So  do  I,"  said  the  doctor.     "For  this  reason  I  say 


THE  BETTER  MAN  429 

to  you  choose  the  ointment  that  never  had  one  in  it. 
Take  the  man  who  is  'master  of  his  fate,  captain  of  his 
soul.'  Stick  to  the  Harvester!  He  is  infinitely  the  bet- 
ter man!" 

"Well  have  you  seen  anything  to  indicate  that  I 
wasn't  sticking?"  asked  the  Girl. 

"No.     And  for  your  sake  I  hope  I  never  will." 

She  laughed  softly. 

"You  do  love  him,  Ruth?" 

"As  I  did  my  mother,  yes.  There  is  not  a  trace  in 
my  heart  of  the  thing  he  calls  love." 

"You  have  been  stunted,  warped,  and  the  fountains 
of  life  never  have  opened.  It  will  come  with  right  con- 
ditions of  living." 

"Do    you    think    so?" 

"I  know  so.  At  least  there  is  no  one  else  you  love, 
Ruth?" 

"No  one  except  you." 

"And  do  you  feel  about  me  just  as  you  do  him?" 

"No!  It  is  different.  What  I  owe  him  is  for  myself. 
What  I  owe  you  is  for  my  mother.  You  saw!  You 
know!  You  understand  what  you  did  for  her,  and  what 
it  meant  to  me.  The  Harvester  must  be  the  finest  man 
on  earth,  but  when  I  try  to  think  of  either  God  or  Heaven, 
your  face  intervenes." 

"That's  all  right,  Ruth,  I'm  so  glad  you  told  me," 
said  Doctor  Harmon.  "I  can  make  it  all  perfectly  clear 
to  you.  You  just  go  on  and  worship  me  all  you  please. 
It's    bound    to    make    a    cleaner,    better    man    of    me. 


43Q  THE  HARVESTER 

What  you  feel  for  me  will  hold  me  to  a  higher  moral 
level  all  my  life  than  I  ever  have  known  before;  but  never 
forget  that  you  are  not  going  to  live  in  Heaven.  You 
will  be  here  at  least  sixty  years  yet,  so  when  you  come 
to  think  of  selecting  a  partner  for  the  relations  of  the 
world,  you  stick  to  the  finest  man  on  earth;  see?" 

"I  do!"  said  the  Girl.  "I  saw  you  kiss  Molly  a 
week  ago.  She  is  lovely,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
perfectly  happy.  It  won't  interfere  with  my  worship- 
ping you;  not  the  least  in  the  world.  Go  ahead  and  be 
joyful!" 

The  doctor  sprang  to  his  feet  in  crimson  confusion. 
The  Girl  lay  and  laughed  at  him. 

"Don't!"  she  cried.  "It's  all  right!  It  takes  a  weight 
off  my  soul  as  heavy  as  a  mountain.  I  do  adore  you,  as 
I  said.  But  every  hour  since  I  left  Chicago  a  big,  black 
cloud  has  hung  over  me.  I  didn't  feel  free.  I  didn't 
feel  absolved.  I  felt  that  my  obligations  to  you  were  so 
heavy  that  when  I  had  settled  the  last  of  the  money  debt 
I  was  in  honour  bound " 

"Don't,  Ruth!  Forget  those  dreadful  times,  as  I  told 
you  then!     Think  only  of  a  happy  future!" 

"Let  me  finish,"  said  the  Girl.  "Let  me  get  this  out 
of  my  system  with  the  other  poison.  From  the  day  I 
came  here,  I've  whispered  in  my  heart,  'I  am  not  free!' 
But  if  you  love  another  woman!  If  you  are  going  to  take 
her  to  your  heart  and  to  your  lips,  why  that  is  my 
release.  Oh  Man,  speak  the  words!  Tell  me  I  am  free 
indeed!" 


THE  BETTER  MAN  431 

"Ruth,  be  quiet,  for  mercy  sake!  You'll  raise  a  tem- 
perature, and  the  Harvester  will  pitch  me  into  the  lake. 
You  are  free,  child,  of  course!  You  always  have  been. 
I  understood  the ^  awful  pressure  that  was  on  you  with 
the  very  first  glimpse  I  had  of  your  mother.  Who  was 
she,  Ruth?" 

"She  never  would  tell  me." 

"She  thought  you  would  appeal  to  her  people?" 

"She  knew  I  would!     I  couldn't  have  helped  it." 

"Would  you  like  to  know?" 

"I  never  want  to.  It  is  too  late.  I  infinitely  prefer 
to  remain  in  ignorance.     Talk  of  something  else." 

"Let  me  read  a  wonderful  book  I  found  on  the  Har- 
vester's shelves." 

"Anything  there  will  contain  wonders,  because  he  only 
buys  what  appeals  to  him,  and  it  takes  a  great  book  to 
do  that.  I  am  going  to  learn.  He  will  teach  me,  and 
when  I  come  within  comprehending  distance  of  him,  then 
we  are  going  on  together." 

"What  an  attractive  place  this  is!" 

"Isn't  it?  I  only  have  seen  enough  to  understand  the 
plan.  I  scarcely  can  wait  to  set  my  feet  on  earth  and  go 
into  detail.  Granny  Moreland  says  that  when  spring 
comes  over  the  hill,  and  brings  up  the  flowers  in  the  big 
woods,  she'd  rather  walk  through  them  than  to  read 
Revelation.  She  says  it  gives  her  an  idea  of  Heaven 
she  can  come  closer  realizing  and  it  seems  more  stable. 
You  know  she  worries  about  the  foundations.  She  can't 
understand    what   supports   Heaven.     But   up    there   in 


432  THE  HARVESTER 

Medicine  Woods  the  old  dear  gets  so  close  her  God 
that  some  day  she  is  going  to  realize  that  her  idea 
of  Heaven  there  is  quite  as  near  right  as  marble 
streets  and  gold  pillars  and  vastly  more  probable.  The 
day  I  reach  that  hill  top  again,  Heaven  begins  for  me. 
Do  you  know  the  wonderful  thing  the  Harvester  did  up 
there?" 

" Under  the  oak?" 

"Yes." 

"Carey  told  me.     It  was  marvellous." 

"Not  such  a  marvel  as  another  the  doctor  couldn't  have 
known.  The  Harvester  made  passing  out  so  natural, 
so  easy,  so  a  part  of  elemental  forces,  that  I  almost  have 
forgotten  her  tortured  body.  When  I  think  of  her  now, 
it  is  to  wonder  if  next  summer  I  can  distinguish  her 
whisper  among  the  leaves.  Before  you  go,  I'll  take  you 
up  there  and  tell  you  what  he  says,  and  show  you  what 
he  means,  and  you  will  feel  it  also." 

"What  if  I  shouldn't  go?" 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Doctor  Carey  has  offered  me  a  splendid  position  in 
his  hospital.  There  would  be  work  all  day,  instead  of 
waiting  all  day  in  the  hope  of  working  an  hour.  There 
would  be  a  living  in  it  for  two  from  the  word  go.  There 
would  be  better  air,  longer  life,  more  to  be  got  out  of  it, 
and  if  I  can  make  good,  Carey's  work  to  take  up  as  he 
grows  old." 

"Take  it!  Take  it  quickly!"  cried  the  Girl.  "Don't 
wait   a    minute!     You    might   wear   out   your   heart   in 


THE  BETTER  MAN  433 

Chicago  for  twenty  years  or  forever,  and  not  have  an 
opportunity  to  do  one  half  so  much  good.  Take  it  at 
once!" 

"I  was  waiting  to  learn  what  you  and  Langston  would 
say." 

"He  will  say  take  it." 

"Then  I  will  be  too  happy  for  words.  Ruth,  you  have 
not  only  paid  the  debt,  but  you  have  brought  me  the 
greatest  joy  a  man  ever  had.  And  there  is  no  need  to 
wait  the  ages  I  thought  I  must.  He  can  tell  in  a  year  if 
I  can  do  the  work,  and  I  know  I  can  now;  so  it's  all 
settled,  if  Langston  agrees." 

"He  will,"  said  the  Girl.     "Let  me  tell  him!" 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  the  doctor.  "I  don't  know 
just  how  to  go  at  it." 

Then  for  two  days  the  Harvester  and  Belshazzar 
gathered  herbs  and  spread  them  on  the  drying  trays. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  third,  close  three,  the  doctor 
came  to  the  door. 

"Langston,"  he  said,  "we  have  a  call  for  you.  We 
can't  keep  Ruth  quiet  much  longer.  She  is  tired.  We 
want  to  change  her  bed  completely.  She  won't  allow 
either  of  us  to  lift  her.  She  says  we  hurt  her.  Will 
you  come  and  try  it?" 

"You'll  have  to  give  me  time  to  dip  and  rub  off  and 
get  into  clean  clothing,"  he  said.  "I've  been  keeping 
away,  because  I  was  working  on  time,  and  I  smell  to 
strangulation  of  stramonium  and  saffron." 

"Can't  give  you  ten  seconds,"  said  the  doctor.     "Our 


434  THE  HARVESTER 

temper  is  getting  brittle.  We  are  cross  as  the  proverbial 
fever  patient;  If  you  don't  come  at  once  we  will  imagine 
you  don't  want  to,  and  refuse  to  be  moved  at  all." 

"Coming!"  cried  the  Harvester,  as  he  plunged  his 
hands  in  the  wash  bowl  and  soused  his  face.  A  second 
later  he   appeared  on   the   porch. 

"Ruth,"  he  said,  "I  am  steeped  in  the  odours  of 
the  dry-house.  Can't  you  wait  until  I  .  bathe  and 
dress?" 

"No,  I  can't,"  said  a  fretful  voice.  "I  can't  endure 
this  bed  another  minute." 

"Then  let  Doctor  Harmon  lift  you.  He  is  so  fresh  and 
clean." 

The  Harvester  glanced  enviously  at  the  shaven  face 
and  white  trousers  and  shirt  of  the  doctor. 

"I  just  hate  fresh,  clean  men.  I  want  to  smell  herbs. 
I  want  to  put  my  feet  in  the  dirt  and  my  hands  in  the 
water." 

The  Harvester  came  at  a  rush.  He  brought  a  big  easy 
chair  from  the  living-room,  straightened  the  cover,  and 
bent  above  the  Girl.  He  picked  her  up  lightly,  gently, 
and  easing  her  to  his  body  settled  in  the  chair.  She  laid  her 
face  on  his  shoulder,  and  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  content. 

"Be  careful  with  my  back,  Man,"  she  said.  "I  think 
my  spine  is  almost  worn  through." 

"Poor  girl,"  said  the  Harvester.  "That  bed  should 
be  softer." 

"It  should  not  {"contradicted  the  Girl.  "It  should  be 
much   harder.     I'm   tired   of   soft  beds.     I   want  to   lie 


THE  BETTER  MAN  435 

on  the  earth,  with  my  head  on  a  root;  and  I  wish  it  would 
rain  dirt  on  me.  I  am  bathed  threadbare.  I  want  to 
be  all  streaky." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Harmon,  bring 
me  a  pad  and  pencil  a  minute,  I  must  write  an  order 
for  some  things  I  want.  Will  you  call  up  town  and 
have  them  sent  out  immediately?" 

On  the  pad  he  wrote:  "Telephone  Carey  to  get  the 
highest  grade  curled-hair  mattress,  a  new  pad,  and  pil- 
low, and  bring  them  flying  in  the  car.  Call  Granny 
and  the  girl  and  empty  the  room.  Clean,  air,  and  fumi- 
gate it  thoroughly.  Arrange  the  furniture  differently, 
and  help  me  into  the  living-room  with  Ruth."  He 
handed  the  pad  to  the  doctor. 

"Please  attend  to  that,"  he  said,  and  to  the  Girl: 
"Now  we  go  on  a  journey.  Doc,  you  and  Molly  take 
the  corners  of  the  rug  we  are  on  and  slide  us  into  the  other 
room  until  you  get  this  aired  and  freshened." 

In  the  living-room  the  Girl  took  one  long  look  at  the 
surroundings  and  suddenly  relaxed.  She  cuddled  against 
the  Harvester  and  lifting  a  tremulous  white  hand,  drew 
it  across  his  unshaven  cheek. 

"Feels  so  good,"  she  said.  "I'm  sick  and  tired  of 
immaculate  men." 

The  Harvester  laughed,  tucked  her  feet  in  the  cover  and 
held  her  tenderly.  The  Girl  lay  with  her  cheek  against 
the  rough  khaki,  palpitant  with  the  excitement  of  being 
moved. 

"Isn't  it  great?"  she  panted. 


in  a 


436  THE  HARVESTER 

He  caught  the  hand  that  had  touched  his  cheek  t 
tender  grip,   and   laughed   a   deep   rumble  of  exultation 
that  came  from  the  depths  of  his  heart. 

"There's  no  name  for  it,  honey,"  he  said.  "But 
don't  try  to  talk  until  you  have  a  long  rest.  Changing 
positions  after  you  have  lain  so  long  may  be  making 
unusual  work  for  your  heart.  Am  I  hurting  your  back?" 
"No,"  said  the  Girl.  "This  is  the  first  time  I  have  been 
comfortable  in  ages.     Am  I  tiring  you?" 

:'Yes,"  laughed  the  Harvester.  "You  are  almost  as 
heavy  as  a  large  sack  of  leaves,  but  not  quite  equal  to  a 
bridge  pillar  or  a  log.  Be  sure  to  think  of  that,  and  worry 
considerably.  You  are  in  danger  of  straining  my  mus- 
cles to  the  last  degree,  my  heart  included." 

"Where  is  your  heart?"  whispered  the  Girl. 
^  "Right  under  your  cheek,"  answered  the  Harvester. 
"But  for  Heaven's   sake,   don't  intimate   that  you   are 
taking  any  interest  in  it,  or  it  will  go  to  pounding  until 
your  head  will  bounce.     It's  one  member  of  my  body  that 
I  can't  control  where  you  are  concerned." 
"I  thought  you  didn't  like  me  any  more." 
" Careful!"    warned    the    Harvester.     "You    are    yet 
too  close  Heaven  to  fib  like  that,  Ruth.     What  have  I 
done  to  indicate  that  I  don't  love  you  more  than  ever?" 
"Stayed  away  nearly  every  minute  for  three    awful 
days,   and  wouldn't  come  without  being  dragged;   and 
now  you're  wishing  they  would  hurry  and  fix  that  bed, 
so  you  can  put  me  down  and  go  back  to  your  rank  old 
herbs  again." 


THE  BETTER  MAN  437 

"Well  of  all  the  black  prevarications!  I  went  when 
you  sent  me,  and  came  when  you  called.  I'd  willingly 
give  up  my  hope  of  what  Granny  calls  'salvation'  to 
hold  you  as  I  am  for  an  hour,  and  you  know  it." 

"It's  going  to  be  much  longer  than  that,"  said  the 
Girl  nestling  to  him.  "I  asked  for  you  because  you 
never  hurt  me,  and  they  always  do.  I  knew  you  were 
so  strong  that  my  weight  now  wouldn't  be  a  load  for  one 
of  your  hands,  and  I  am  not  going  back  to  that  bed 
until  I  am  so  tired  that  I  will  be  glad  to  lie  down." 

For  a  long  time  she  was  so  silent  the  Harvester  thought 
her  going  to  sleep;  and  having  learned  that  for  him  joy 
was  probably  transient,  he  deliberately  got  all  he  could. 
He  closely  held  the  hand  she  had  not  withdrawn,  and 
often  lifted  it  to  his  lips.  Sometimes  he  stroked  the 
heavy  braid,  gently  ran  his  hands  across  the  tired  shoul- 
ders, or  eased  her  into  a  different  position.  There  was 
not  a  doubt  in  his  mind  of  one  thing.  He  was  having  a 
royal,  good  time,  and  he  was  thankful  for  the  work  he 
had  set  his  assistants  that  kept  them  out  of  the  room. 
They  seemed  in  no  hurry,  and  from  scuffling,  laughing, 
and  a  steady  stream  of  talk,  they  were  entertained  at 
least.     At  last  the  Girl  roused. 

"There  is  something  I  want  to  ask  you,"  she  said. 
"I  promised  Doctor  Harmon  I  would." 

Instantly  the  heart  of  the  Harvester  gave  a  leap 
that  jarred  the  head  resting  on  it. 

"You  don't  like  him?"  questioned  the  Girl. 

"I    do!"    declared    the   Harvester.     "I    like   him    im- 


438  THE  HARVESTER 

mensely.  There  is  not  a  fine,  manly  good-looking  fea- 
ture about  him  that  I  have  missed.  I  don't  fail  to  do 
him  justice  on  every  point." 

"I'm  so  glad!     Then  you  will  want  him  to  remain." 

"Here?"  asked  the  Harvester  with  a  light,  hot  breath. 

"In  Onabasha!  Doctor  Carey  has  offered  him  the 
place  of  chief  assistant  at  the  hospital.  There  is  a  good 
salary  and  the  chance  of  taking  up  the  doctor's  work  as 
he  grows  older.     It  means  plenty  to  do  at  once,  healthful 

atmosphere,  congenial  society everything  to  a  young 

man.  He  only  had  a  call  once  in  a  while  in  Chicago, 
often  among  people  who  received  more  than  they  paid, 
like  me,  and  he  was  very  lonely.  I  think  it  would  be 
great  for  him." 

"And  for  you,  Ruth?" 

"It  doesn't  make  the  least  difference  to  me;  but  for 
his  sake,  because  I  think  so  much  of  him,  I  would  like 
to  see  him  have  the  place." 

"You  still  think  so  much  of  him,  Ruth?" 

"More,  if  possible,"  said  the  Girl.  "Added  to  all  I 
owed  him  before,  he  has  come  here  and  worked  for  days 
to  save  me,  and  it  wasn't  his  fault  that  it  took  a  bigger 
man.  Nothing  alters  the  fact  that  he  did  all  he  could, 
most  graciously  and  gladly." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Ruth?"  stammered  the  Har- 
vester. 

"Oh  they  have  worn  themselves  out!"  cried  the  Girl 
impatiently.  "First,  Granny  Moreland  told  me  every 
least  little  detail  of  how  I  went  out,  and  you  resurrected 


THE  BETTER  MAN  439 

me.  I  knew  what  she  said  was  true,  because  she  worked 
with  you.  Then  Doctor  Carey  told  me,  and  Mrs.  Carey, 
and  Doctor  Harmon,  and  Molly,  and  even  Granny's 
little  assistant  has  left  the  kitchen  to  tell  me  that  I 
owe  my  life  to  you,  and  all  of  them  might  as  well  have 
saved  breath.  I  knew  all  the  time  that  if  ever  I  came 
out  of  this,  and  had  a  chance  to  be  like  other  women, 
it  would  be  your  work,  and  I'm  glad  it  is.  I'd  hate 
to  be  under  obligations  to  some  people  I  know;  but  I 
feel  honoured  to  be  indebted  to  you." 

"I'm  mighty  sorry  they  worried  you.  I  had  no  idea " 

"They  didn't  'worry,'  me!  I  am  just  telling  you  that 
I  knew  it  all  the  time;  that's  all!" 

"Forget  that!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Come  back  to 
our  subject.     What  was  it  you  wanted,  dear?" 

"To  know  if  you  have  any  objections  to  Doctor  Har- 
mon remaining  in  Onabasha?" 

"Certainly  not!     It  will  be  a  fine  thing  for  him." 

"Will  it  make  any  difference  to  you  in  any  way?" 

"Ruth,  that's  probing  too  deep,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"I  don't  see  why!" 

"I'm  glad  of  it!" 

"Why?" 

"I'd  least  rather  show  my  littleness  to  you  than  to 
any  one  else  on  earth." 

"Then  you  have  some  feeling  about  it?" 

"Perhaps  a  trifle.  I'll  get  over  it.  Give  me  a  little 
time  to  adjust  myself.  Doctor  Harmon  shall  have  the 
place,  of  course.     Don't  worry  about  that!" 


44o  THE  HARVESTER 

"He  will  be  so  happy!" 

"And  you,  Ruth?" 

"I'll  be  happy  too!" 

"Then  it's  all  right,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  laid  down  her  hand,  drew  the  cover  over  it,  and 
slightly  shifted  her  position  to  rest  her.  The  door 
opened,  and  Doctor  Harmon  announced  that  the  room 
was  ready.  It  was  shining  and  fresh.  The  bed  was 
now  turned  with  its  head  to  the  north,  so  that  from  it  one 
could  see  the  big  trees  in  Medicine  Woods,  the  sweep 
of  the  hillside,  the  sparkle  of  mallow-bordered  Singing 
Water,  the  driveway  and  the  gold  flower  garden.  Every- 
thing was  so  changed  that  the  room  had  quite  a  different 
appearance.  The  instant  he  laid  her  on  it  the  Girl  said, 
"This  bed  is  not  mine." 

"Yes  it  is,"  said  the  Harvester.  "You  see,  we  were 
a  little  excited  sometimes,  and  we  spilled  a  few  quarts  of 
perfectly  good  medicine  on  your  mattress.  It  was  hope- 
lessly smelly  and  ruined;  so  I  am  going  to  cremate  it 
and  this  is  your  splinter  new  one  and  a  fresh  pad  and  pil- 
low. Now  you  try  them  and  see  if  they  are  not  much 
harder  and  more  comfortable." 

"  This  is  just  perfect !"  she  sighed,  as  she  sank  into  the  bed. 

The  Harvester  bent  over  her  to  straighten  the  cover, 
when  suddenly  she  reached  both  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  gripped  him  with  all  her  strength. 

"Thank  you!"  she  said. 

"May  I  hold  you  to-morrow?"  whispered  the  Harves- 
ter, emboldened  by  this. 


THE  BETTER  MAN  441 

"Please  do,"  said  the  Girl. 

The  Harvester,  with  dog  to  heel,  went  to  the  oak  to 
think. 

"Belshazzar,  kommen  Sie!"  said  the  man,  dropping 
on  the  seat  and  holding  out  his  hand.  The  dog  laid  his 
muzzle  in  the  firm  grip. 

"Bel,"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  am  all  at  sea.     One  day 

I  think  maybe  I  have  a  little  chance,  the  next none  at 

all.  I  had  an  hour  of  solid  comfort  to-day,  now  I'm  in  the 
sweat  box  again.  It's  a  little  selfish  streak  in  me,  Bel, 
that  hates  to  see  Harmon  go  into  the  hospital  and  take 
my  place  with  the  Careys.  They  are  my  best  and  only 
friends.  He  is  young,  social,  handsome,  and  will  be 
ever  present.  In  three  months  he  will  become  so  popular 
that  I  might  as  well  be  off  the  earth.  I  wish  I  didn't 
think  it,  but  I'm  so  small  that  I  do.  And  then  there  is 
my  Dream  Girl,  Bel.  The  girl  you  found  for  me,  old 
fellow.  There  never  was  another  like  her,  and  she  has 
my  heart  for  all  time.  And  he  has  hers.  That  hospital 
plan  is  the  best  thing  in  the  world  for  her.  It  will  keep 
her  where  Carey  can  have  an  eye  on  her,  where  the  air 
is  better,  where  she  can  have  company  without  the  city 
crush,  where  she  is  close  the  country,  and  a  good  living 
is  assured.  Bel,  it's  the  nicest  arrangement  you  ever 
saw  for  every  one  we  know,  except  us." 

The  Harvester  laughed  shortly.  "Bel,"  he  said,  "tell 
me!  If  a  man  lived  a  hundred  years,  could  he  have  the 
heartache  all  the  way?  Seems  like  I've  had  it  almost 
that  long  now.     In  fact,   I've  had  it  such  ages  I'd  be 


442  THE  HARVESTER 

lonesome  without  it.  This  is  some  more  of  my  very 
own  medicine,  so  I  shouldn't  make  a  wry  face  over 
taking  it.  I  knew  what  would  happen  when  I  sent 
for  him,  and  I  didn't  hesitate.     I  must  not  now. 

"Only  I  got  to  stop  one  thing,  Bel.  I  told  him  I 
would  play  square,  and  I  have.  But  here  it  ends.  After 
this,  I  must  step  back  and  be  big  brother.  Lots  of 
fun  in  this  brother  business,  Bel.  But  maybe  I  am 
cut  out  for  it.  Anyway  it's  written!  But  if  it  is,  how 
did  she  come  to  allow  me  such  privileges  as  I  took  to- 
day? That  wasn't  professional  by  any  means.  It  was 
just  the  stiffest  love-making  I  knew  how  to  do,  Bel, 
and  she  didn't  object  by  the  quiver  of  an  eyelash.  God 
knows  I  was  watching  closely  enough  for  any  sign  that  I 
was  distasteful.  And  I  might  have  been  well  enough. 
Rough,  herb-stained  old  clothes,  unshaven,  everything 
to  offend  a  dainty  girl.  She  said  I  might  hold  her  again 
to-morrow.  And,  Bel,  what  the  nation  did  she  hug  me 
like  that  for,  if  she's  going  to  marry  him?  Boy,  I  see 
my  way  clear  to  an  hour  more.  While  I'm  at  it,  just  to 
surprise  myself,  I  believe  I'll  take  it  like  other  men.  I 
think  I'll  go  on  a  little  bender,  and  make  what  probably 
will  be  the  last  day  a  plumb  good  one.  Something 
worth  remembering  is  better  than  nothing  at  all,  Bel! 
He  hasn't  told  me  that  he  has  won.  She  didn't  say 
she  was  going  to  marry  him,  and  she  did  say  he  hurt 
her,  and  she  wanted  me.  Bel,  how  about  the  grimness 
of  it,  if  she  should  marry  him  and  then  discover  that 
he  hurts  her,  and  she  wants  me.     Lord  God  Almighty, 


THE  BETTER  MAN  443 

if  you  have  any  mercy  at  all,  never  put  me  up  against 
that,"  prayed  the  Harvester,  "for  my  heart  is  water 
where  she  is  concerned." 

The  Harvester  arose,  and  going  to  the  lake,  he  cut  an 
arm  load  of  big,  pink  mallows,  covered  each  mound  with 
fresh  flowers,  whistled  to  the  dog,  and  went  to  his  work. 
Many  things  had  accumulated,  and  he  cleaned  the  barn, 
carried  herbs  from  the  dry-house  to  the  store-room, 
and  put  everything  into  shape.  Close  noon  the  next 
day  he  went  to  Onabasha,  and  was  gone  three  hours. 
He  came  back  barbered  in  the  latest  style,  and  carrying 
a  big  bundle.  When  the  hour  for  arranging  the  bed 
came,  he  was  yet  in  his  room,  but  he  sent  word  he 
would  be  there  in  a  second. 

As  he  crossed  the  living-room  he  pulled  a  chair  to  the 
veranda  and  placed  a  footstool  before  it.  Then  he 
stepped  into  the  sunshine  room.  A  quizzical  expression 
crossed  the  face  of  Doctor  Harmon  as  he  closed  the  book 
he  was  reading  aloud  to  the  Girl  and  arose.  Wholly  un- 
embarrassed the  Harvester  smiled. 

"Have  I  got  this  rigging  anywhere  near  right?"  he 
inquired. 

"David,  what  have  you  done?"  gasped  the  amazed 
Girl. 

"I  didn't  feel  anywhere  near  up  to  the  'mark  of  my 
high  calling'  yesterday,"  quoted  the  Harvester.  "I 
don't  know  how  I  appear,  but  I'm  clean  as  shaving, 
soap  and  hot  water  will  make  me,  and  my  clothing  will 
not  smell  offensively.     Now  come  out  of  that  bed  for  a 


444  THE  HARVESTER 

happy  hour.     Where  is  that  big  coverlet?     You  are  going 
on  the  veranda  to-day." 

''You  look  just  like  every  one  else,"  complained  Doc- 
tor Harmon. 

"You  look  perfectly  lovely,"  declared  the  Girl. 
"The  swale  sends  you  this  invitation  to  come  and  see 
star-shine  at  the  foot  of  mullein  hill,"  said  the  Harves- 
ter, offering  a  bouquet.  It  was  a  loose  bunch  of  long- 
stemmed,  delicate  flowers,  each  an  inch  across,  and 
having  five  pearl-white  petals  lightly  striped  with  pale 
green.  Five  long  gold  anthers  arose,  and  at  their  base 
gold  stamens  and  a  green  pistil.  The  leaves  were  heart- 
shaped  and  frosty,  whitish-green,  resembling  felt.  The 
Harvester  bent  to  offer  them. 

"Have  some  Grass  of  Parnassus,  my  dear,"  he  said. 

The  Girl  waved  them  away.  "Go  stand  over  there  by 
the  door  and  slowly  turn  around.     I  want  to  see  you." 

The  Harvester  obeyed.  He  was  freshly  and  carefully 
shaven.  His  hair  was  closely  cropped  at  the  base  of 
the  head,  long,  heavy,  and  slightly  waving  on  top.  He 
wore  a  white  silk  shirt,  with  a  rolling  collar  and  tie,  white 
trousers,  belt,  hose,  and  shoes,  and  his  hands  were  mani- 
cured with  care. 

"Have  I  made  a  mess  of  it,  or  do  I  appear  anything 
like  other  men?"  he  asked,  eagerly. 

The  Girl  lifted  her  eyes  to  Doctor  Harmon  and  smiled. 

"Do  you  observe  anything  messy?"  she  inquired. 

"You  needn't  fish  for  compliments  quite  so  obviously," 
he    answered.     "I'll    pay    them    without    being    asked. 


THE  BETTER  MAN  445 

I  do  not.  He  is  quite  correct,  and  infinitely  better 
looking  than  the  average.  Distinguished  is  a  proper 
word  for  the  gentleman  in  my  opinion.  But  why,  in 
Heaven's  name,  have  we  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  thus  before  ?" 

"Look  here,  Doc,"  said  the  Harvester,  "do  you  mean 
that  you  enjoy  looking  at  me  merely  because  I  am  dressed 
this  way?" 

"I  do  indeed,"  said  the  doctor.  "It  is  good  to  see 
you  with  the  garb  of  work  laid  aside,  and  the  stamp  of 
cleanliness  and  ease  upon  you." 

"By  gum,  that  is  rubbing  it  in  a  little  too  rough!" 
cried  the  Harvester.  "I  bathe  oftener  than  you  do.  My 
clothing  is  always  clean  when  I  start  out.  Of  course, 
in  my  work  I  come  hourly  in  contact  with  muck,  water, 
and  herb  juices." 

"It's  understood  that  is  unavoidable,"  said  Doctor 
Harmon. 

"And  if  cleanliness  is  made  an  issue,  I'd  rather  roll 
in  any  of  it  than  put  my  finger  tips  into  the  daily  work 
of  a  surgeon,"  added  the  Harvester,  and  the  Girl 
giggled. 

"That's  enough  Medicine  Man!"  she  said.  "You 
did  not  make  a  'mess'  of  it,  or  anything  else  you  ever 
attempted.  As  for  appearing  like  other  men,  thank 
Heaven,  you  do  not.  You  look  just  a  whole  world 
bigger  and  better  and  finer.  Come,  carry  me  out 
quickly.  I  am  wild  to  go.  Please  put  my  lovely  flowers 
in  water,  Molly,  only  give  me  a  few  to  hold." 


446  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  arranged  the  pink  coverlet,  picked  up 
the  Girl,  and  carried  her  to  the  living-room. 

"  We  will  rest  here  a  little,"  he  said,  "  and  then,  if  you 
feel  equal  to  it,  we  will  try  the  veranda.  Are  you  easy 
now?" 

She  nestled  her  face  against  the  soft  shirt  and  smiled 
at  him.  She  lifted  her  hand,  laid  it  on  his  smooth  cheek 
and  then  the  crisp  hair. 

"Oh  Man!"  she  cried.  "Thank  God  you  didn't  give 
me  up,  too!     I  want  life!     I  want  life!" 

The  Harvester  tightened  his  grip  just  a  trifle.  "Then 
I  thank  God,  too,"  he  said.  "Can  you  tell  me  how  you 
are,  dear?     Is  there  any  difference?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  "I  grow  tired  lying  so  long, 
but  there  isn't  the  ghost  of  an  ache  in  my  bones.  I  can 
just  feel  pure,  delicious  blood  running  in  my  veins.  My 
hands  and  feet  are  always  warm,  and  my  head  cool." 

The  Harvester's  face  drew  very  close.  "How  about 
your  heart,  honey?"  he  whispered.  "Anything  new  there?" 

"Yes,  I  am  all  over  new  inside  and  out.  I  want  to 
shout,  run,  sing,  and  swim.  Oh  I'd  give  anything  to 
have  you  carry  me  down  and  dip  me  in  the  lake  right 
now." 

"Soon,  Girl!  That  will  come  soon,"  prophesied  the 
Harvester. 

"I  scarcely  can  wait.  And  you  did  say  a  saddle, 
didn't  you?  Won't  it  be  great  to  come  galloping  up  the 
levee,  when  the  leaves  are  red  and  the  frost  is  in  the  air. 
Oh  am  I  going  fast  enough?" 


THE  BETTER  MAN  447 

"Much  faster  than  I  expected,"  said  the  Harvester. 
"You  are  surprising  all  of  us,  me  most  of  any.  Ruth, 
you  almost  make  me  hope  that  you  regard  this  as  home. 
Honey,  you  are  thinking  a  little  of  me  these  days?" 

The  hand  that  had  fallen  from  his  hair  lay  on  his  shoul- 
der. Now  it  slid  around  his  neck,  and  gripped  him  with 
all  its  strength. 

"Heaps  and  heaps!"  she  said.  "All  I  get  a  chance  to, 
for  being  bothered  and  fussed  over,  and  everlastingly 
read  mushy  stuff  that's  intended  for  some  one  else. 
Please  take  me  to  the  veranda  now;  I  want  to  tell  you 
something." 

His  head  swam,  but  the  Harvester  set  his  feet  firmly, 
arose,  and  carried  his  Dream  Girl  back  to  outdoor  life. 
When  he  reached  the  chair,  she  begged  him  to  go  a  few 
steps  farther  to  the  bench  on  the  lake  shore. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  man. 

"It's  so  warm.  There  can't  be  any  difference  in  the 
air.     Just  a  minute." 

The  Harvester  pushed  open  the  screen,  went  to  the 
bench,  and  seating  himself,  drew  the  cover  closely  around 
her. 

"Don't  speak  a  word  for  a  long  time,"  he  said.  "Just 
rest.  If  I  tire  you  too  much  and  spoil  everything,  I 
will  be  desperate." 

He  clasped  her  to  him,  laid  his  cheek  against  her  hair, 
and  his  lips  on  her  forehead.  He  held  her  hand  and 
kissed  it  over  and  over,  and  again  he  watched  and  could 
find   no   resentment.     The   cool,   pungent   breeze   swept 


448  THE  HARVESTER 

from  the  lake,  and  the  voices  of  wild  life  chattered  at 
their  feet.  Sometimes  the  water  folks  splashed,  while  a 
big  black  and  gold  butterfly  mistook  the  Girl's  dark  hair 
for  a  perching  place  and  settled  on  it,  slowly  opening 
its  wonderful  wings. 

"Lie  quietly,  Girl,"  whispered  the  Harvester.  "You 
are  wearing  a  living  jewel,  an  ornament  above  price,  on 
your  hair.     Maybe  you  can  see  it  when  it  goes.     There!" 

"Oh  I  did!"  she  cried.  "How  I  love  it  here!  Before 
long  may  I  lie  in  the  dining-room  window  a  while  so  I 
can  see  the  water.  I  like  the  hill,  but  I  love  the  lake 
more." 

"Now  if  you  just  would  love  me,"  said  the  Har- 
vester, "you  would  have  all  Medicine  Woods  in  your 
heart." 

"Don't  hurry  me  so!"  said  the  Girl.  "You  gave  me  a 
year;  and  it's  only  a  few  weeks,  and  I've  not  been  myself, 
and  I'm  not  now.  I  mustn't  make  any  mistake,  and  all 
I  know  for  sure  is  that  I  want  you  most,  and  I  can  rest 
best  with  you,  and  I  miss  you  every  minute  you  are 
gone.     I  think  that  should  satisfy  you." 

"That  would  be  enough  for  any  reasonable  man," 
said  the  Harvester  angrily.  "Forgive  me,  Ruth,  I  have 
been  cruel.  I  forgot  how  frail  and  weak  you  are.  It  is 
having  Harmon  here  that  makes  me  unnatural.  It  al- 
most drives  me  to  frenzy  to  know  that  he  may  take  you 
from  me." 

"Then  send  him  away!" 

11  Send  him  away?" 


THE  BETTER  MAN  449 

"Yes,  send  him  away!  I  am  tired  to  death  of  his 
poetry,  and  seeing  him  spoon  around.  Send  both  of 
them  away  quickly!" 

The  Harvester  gulped,  blinked,  and  surreptitiously  felt 
for  her  pulse. 

"Oh,  I've  not  developed  fever  again,"  she  said.  "I'm 
all  right.  But  it  must  be  a  fearful  expense  to  have  both 
of  them  here  by  the  week,  and  I'm  so  tired  of  them. 
Granny  says  she  can  take  care  of  me  just  as  well,  and  the 
girl  who  helps  her  can  cook.  No  one  but  you  shall  lift 
me,  if  I  don't  get  my  nose  out  until  I  can  walk  alone. 
Both  of  them  are  perfectly  useless,  and  I'd  much  rather 
you'd  send  them  away." 

"There,  there!  Of  course!"  said  the  Harvester  sooth- 
ingly. "I'll  do  it  as  soon  as  I  possibly  dare.  You 
don't  understand,  honey.  You  are  yet  delicate  beyond 
measure,  internally.  The  fever  burned  so  long.  Every 
morsel  you  eat  is  measured  and  cooked  in  sterilized  ves- 
sels, and  I'd  be  scared  of  my  life  to  have  the  girl  under- 
take it." 

"Why  she  is  doing  it  straight  along  now!  She  and 
Granny!  Molly  isn't  out  of  Doctor  Harmon's  sight  long 
enough  to  cook  anything.  Granny  says  there  is  'a  lot  of 
buncombe  about  what  they  do,  and  she  is  going  to  tell 
them  so  right  to  their  teeth  some  of  these  days,  if  they 
badger  her  much  more,'  and  I  wish  she  would,  and  you, 
too." 

The  Harvester  gathered  the  Girl  to  him  in  one  crush- 
ing bear  hug. 


450  THE  HARVESTER 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven,  Ruth,  you  drive  me  crazy! 
Answer  me  just  one  question.  When  you  told  me  that 
you  'adored  and  worshipped'  Doctor  Harmon,  did  you 
mean  it,  or  was  that  the  delirium  of  fever?" 

"I  don't  know  what  I  told  you!  If  I  said  I  'adored' 
him,  it  was  the  truth.  I  did!  I  do!  I  always  will! 
So  do  I  adore  the  Almighty,  but  that's  no  sign  I  want 
him  to  read  poetry  to  me,  and  be  around  all  the  time 
when  I  am  wild  for  a  minute  with  you.  I  can  worship 
Doctor  Harmon  in  Chicago  or  Onabasha  quite  as  well. 
Fire  him !     If  you  don't,  I  will ! " 

"Good  Lord!"  cried  the  Harvester,  helpless  until 
the  Girl  had  to  cling  to  him  to  prevent  rolling  from  his 
nerveless  arms.     "Ruth,  Ruth,  will  you  feel  my  pulse?" 

"No,  I  won't!  But  you  are  going  to  drop  me.  Take 
me  straight  back  to  my  beautiful  new  bed,  and  send  them 
away." 

"A  minute!  Give  me  a  minute!"  gasped  the  Har- 
vester. "I  couldn't  lift  a  baby  just  now.  Ruth,  dear,  I 
thought  you  loved  the  man." 

"What  made  you  think  so?" 

"You  did!" 

"I  didn't  either!  I  never  said  I  loved  him.  I  said 
I  was  under  obligations  to  him;  but  they  are  as  well 
repaid  as  they  ever  can  be.  I  said  I  adored  him,  and  I 
tell  you  I  do!  Give  him  what  we  owe  him,  both  of  us, 
in  money,  and  send  them  away.  If  you'd  seen  as  much 
of  them  as  I  have,  you'd  be  tired  of  them,  too.  Please, 
please,  David!" 


THE  BETTER  MAN  451 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester,  arising  in  a  sudden  tide 
of  effulgent  joy.     "Yes,  Girl,  just  as  quickly  as  I  can 

with  decency.     I I'll  send  them  on  the  lake,  and  I'll 

take  care  of  you." 

"You  won't  read  poetry  to  me?" 

"I  will  not." 

"You  won't  moon  at  me?" 

"No!" 

"Then  hurry!  But  have  them  take  your  boat.  I  am 
going  to  have  the  first  ride  in  mine." 

"Indeed  you  are,  and  soon,  too!"  said  the  Harvester, 
marching  up  the  hill  as  if  he  were  leading  hosts  to 
battle. 

He  laid  the  Girl  on  the  bed  and  covered  her,  and  called 
Granny  Moreland  to  sit  beside  her  a  few  minutes.  He 
went  into  the  gold  garden  and  proposed  that  the  doctor 
and  the  nurse  go  rowing  until  supper  time,  and  they 
went  with  alacrity.  When  they  started  he  returned  to 
the  Girl  and,  sitting  beside  her,  he  told  Granny  to  take 
a  nap.  Then  he  began  to  talk  softly  all  about  wild  music, 
and  how  it  was  made,  and  what  the  different  odours 
sweeping  down  the  hill  were,  and  when  the  red  leaves 
would  come,  and  the  nuts  rattle  down,  and  the  frost 
fairies  enamel  the  windows,  and  soon  she  was  sound  asleep. 
Granny  came  back,  and  the  Harvester  walked  around 
the  lake  shore  to  be  alone  a  while  and  think  quietly, 
for  he  was  almost  too  dazed  and  bewildered  for  full 
realization. 

As  he  softly  followed  the  foot  path  he  heard  voices, 


452  THE  HARVESTER 

and  looking  down,  he  saw  the  boat  lying  in  the  shade  and 
beneath  a  big  tree  on  the  bank  sat  the  doctor  and  the 
nurse.  His  arm  was  around  her,  and  her  head  was  on 
his  shoulder;  and  she  said  very  distinctly,  "How  long 
will  it  be  until  we  can  go  without  offending  him?" 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  Vertical  Spine 

BY  MIDDLE  September  the  last  trace  of  illness 
had  been  removed  from  the  premises,  and  it 
was  rapidly  disappearing  from  the  face  and  form 
of  the  Girl.  She  was  showing  a  beautiful  roundness, 
there  was  lovely  colour  on  her  cheeks  and  lips,  and  in 
her  dark  eyes  sparkled  a  touch  of  mischief.  Rigidly 
she  followed  the  rules  laid  down  for  diet  and  exercise, 
and  as  strength  flowed  through  her  body,  and  no  trace 
of  pain  tormented  her,  she  began  revelling  in  new  and 
delightful  sensations.  She  loved  to  pull  her  boat  as 
she  willed,  drive  over  the  wood  road,  study  the  books, 
cook  the  new  dishes,  rearrange  furniture,  and  go  with 
the  Harvester  everywhere. 

But  that  was  greatly  the  management  of  the  man. 
He  was  so  afraid  that  something  might  happen  to  undo 
all  the  wonders  accomplished  in  the  Girl,  and  again 
whiten  her  face  with  pain,  that  he  scarcely  allowed  her 
out  of  his  sight.  He  remained  in  the  cabin,  helping 
when  she  worked,  and  then  drove  with  her  and  a  big 
blanket  to  the  woods,  arranged  her  chair  and  table, 
found  some  attractive  subject,  and  while  the  wind 
ravelled   her   hair  and  flushed   her  cheeks,   her  fingers 

453 


454  THE  HARVESTER 

drew  designs.  At  noon  they  went  to  the  cabin  to  lunch, 
and  the  Girl  took  a  nap,  while  the  Harvester  spread 
his  morning's  reaping  on  the  shelves  to  dry.  They  re- 
turned to  the  woods  until  five  o'clock;  then  home  again 
and  the  Girl  dressed  and  prepared  supper,  while  the 
Harvester  spread  his  stores  and  fed  the  stock.  Then 
he  put  on  white  clothing  for  the  evening.  The  Girl 
rested  while  he  washed  the  dishes,  and  they  explored 
the  lake  in  the  little  motor  boat,  or  drove  to  the  city 
for  supplies,  or  to  see  their  friends. 

"Are  you  even  with  your  usual  work  at  this  time  of 
the  year?"     she  asked  as  they  sat  at  breakfast. 

"I  am,"  said  the  Harvester.  "The  only  things  that 
have  been  crowded  out  are  the  candlesticks.  They 
will  have  to  remain  on  the  shelf  until  the  herbs  and  roots 
are  all  in,  and  the  long  winter  evenings  come.  Then 
I'll  use  the  luna  pattern  and  finish  yours  first  of  all. " 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day?" 

"Start  on  a  regular  fall  campaign.  Some  of  it  for  the 
sake  of  having  it,  and  some  because  there  is  good  money 
in  it.     Will  you  come?" 

"Indeed  yes.  May  I  help,  or  shall  I  take  my  draw- 
ing along?" 

"Bring  your  drawing.  Next  fall  you  may  help,  but  as 
yet  you  are  too  close  suffering  for  me  to  see  you  do  any- 
thing that  might  be  even  a  slight  risk.     I  can't  endure  it. " 

"Baby!"  she  jeered. 

"Christen  me  anything  you  please,"  laughed  the 
Harvester.     "I'm  short  on  names  anyway." 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  455 

He  went  to  harness  Betsy,  and  the  Girl  washed  the 
dishes,  straightened  the  rooms,  and  collected  her  drawing 
material.  Then  she  walked  up  the  hill,  wearing  a  shirt 
and  short  skirt  of  khaki,  stout  shoes,  and  a  straw  hat 
that  shaded  her  face.  She  climbed  into  the  wagon, 
laid  the  drawing  box  on  the  seat,  and  caught  the  lines 
as  the  Harvester  flung  them  to  her.  He  went  swinging 
ahead,  Belshazzar  to  heel,  the  Girl  driving  after.  The 
white  pigeons  circled  above,  and  every  day  Ajax  allowed 
his  curiosity  to  overcome  his  temper,  and  followed  a 
little  farther. 

"Whoa,  Betsy!"  The  Girl  tugged  at  the  lines;  but 
Betsy  took  the  bit  between  her  teeth,  and  plodded  after 
the  Harvester.  She  pulled  with  all  her  might,  but  her 
strength  was  not  nearly  sufficient  to  stop  the  stubborn 
animal. 

"Whoa,  David!"     cried  the  Girl. 

"What  is  it?"  the  Harvester  turned. 

"Won't  you  please  wait  until  I  can  take  off  my  hat? 
I  love  to  ride  bareheaded  through  the  woods,  and  Betsy 
won't  stop  until  you  do,  no  matter  how  hard  I  pull. " 

"Betsy,  you're  no  lady!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Why 
don't  you  stop  when  you're  told?" 

"I  shan't  waste  any  more  strength  on  her,"  said  the 
Girl.  "Hereafter  I  shall  say,  'Gee,  David,'  'Haw,  David,' 
'Whoa,  David,'  and  then  she  will  do  exactly  as  you. " 

The  Harvester  stopped  half  way  up  the  hill,  and  be- 
side a  large,  shaded  bed  spread  the  rug,  and  set  up  the 
little  table  and  chair  for  the  Girl. 


456  THE  HARVESTER 

"Want  a  plant  to  draw?"  he  asked.  "This  is  very 
important  to  us.  It  has  a  string  of  names  as  long  as  a 
princess,  but  I  call  it  goldenseal,  because  the  roots  are 
yellow.  The  chemists  ask  for  hydrastis.  That  sounds 
formidable,  but  it's  a  cousin  of  buttercups.  The  woods 
of  Ohio  and  Indiana  produce  the  finest  that  ever  grew, 
but  it  is  so  nearly  extinct  now  that  the  trade  can  be  sup- 
plied by  cultivation  only.  I  suspect  I'm  responsible 
for  its  disappearance  around  here.  I  used  to  get  a  dollar 
fifty  a  pound,  and  most  of  my  clothes  and  books  when 
a  boy  I  owe  to  it.  Now  I  get  two  for  my  finest  grade; 
that  accounts  for  the  size  of  these  beds." 

"It's  pretty!"  said  the  Girl,  studying  a  plant  aver- 
aging a  foot  in  height.  On  a  slender,  round,  purplish 
stem  arose  one  big,  rough  leaf,  heavily  veined,  and  hav- 
ing from  five  to  nine  lobes.  Opposite  was  a  similar  leaf, 
but  very  small,  and  a  head  of  scarlet  berries  resembling  a 
big  raspberry  in  shape.  The  Harvester  shook  the 
black  woods  soil  from  the  yellow  roots,  and  held  up  the 
plant. 

"You  won't  enjoy  the  odour,"  he  said. 

"Well  I  like  the  leaves.  I  know  I  can  use  them  some 
way.  They  are  so  unusual.  What  wonderful  colour  in 
the  roots!" 

"One  of  its  names  is  Indian  paint,"  explained  the 
Harvester.  "Probably  it  furnished  the  squaws  of  these 
woods  with  colouring  matter.  Now  let's  see  what  we 
can  get  out  of  it.  You  draw  the  plant  and  I'll  dig  the 
roots. " 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  457 

For  a  time  the  Girl  bent  over  her  work  and  the  Har- 
vester was  busy.  Belshazzar  ranged  the  woods  chasing 
chipmunks.  The  birds  came  asking  questions.  When 
the  drawing  was  completed,  other  subjects  were  found 
at  every  turn,  and  the  Girl  talked  almost  constantly, 
her  face  alive  with  interest.  The  May-apple  beds  lay 
close,  and  she  drew  from  them.  She  learned  the  uses 
and  prices  of  the  plant,  and  also  made  drawings  of 
cohosh,  moonseed  and  bloodroot.  That  was  so  wonder- 
ful in  its  root  colour,  the  Harvester  filled  the  little  cup 
with  water  and  she  began  to  paint.  Intensely  absorbed 
she  bent  above  the  big,  notched,  silvery  leaves  and 
the  blood-red  roots,  testing  and  trying  to  match  them 
exactly.  Every  few  minutes  the  Harvester  leaned  over 
her  shoulder  to  see  how  she  was  progressing  and  to 
offer  suggestions.  When  she  finished  she  picked  up  a 
trailing  vine  of  moonseed. 

"You  have  this  on  the  porch,"  she  said.  "I  think  it 
is  lovely.  There  is  no  end  to  the  beautiful  combinations 
of  leaves,  and  these  are  such  pretty  little  grape-like 
clusters;  but  if  you  touch  them  the  slightest  you  soil 
the  wonderful  surface." 

"And  that  makes  the  fairies  very  sad,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "They  love  that  vine  best  of  any,  because 
they  paint  its  fruit  with  the  most  care.  'Bloom'  the 
scientists  call  it.  You  see  it  on  cultivated  plums,  grapes, 
and  apples,  but  never  in  any  such  perfection  as  on  moon- 
seed and  black  haws  in  the  woods.  You  should  be  able 
to  design  a  number  of  pretty  things  from  the  cohosh 


458  THE  HARVESTER 

leaves  and  berries,  too.  You  scarcely  can  get  a  start 
this  fall,  but  early  in  the  spring  you  can  begin,  and  follow 
the  season.  If  your  work  comes  out  well  this  winter, 
I'll  send  some  of  it  to  the  big  publishing  houses,  and 
you  can  make  book  and  magazine  covers  and  decorations, 
if  you  would  like.  " 

'"If  I  would  like!'  How  modest!  You  know  per- 
fectly well  that  if  I  could  make  a  design  that  would  be 
accepted,  and  used  on  a  book  or  magazine,  I  would  almost 
fly.     Oh  do  you  suppose  I  could?" 

"I  don't  'suppose'  anything  about  it,  I  know,"  said 
the  Harvester.  "It  is  not  possible  that  the  public  can 
be  any  more  tired  of  wild  roses,  golden-rod,  and  swallows 
than  the  poor  art  editors  who  accept  them  because 
they  can't  help  themselves.  Dangle  something  fresh 
and  new  under  their  noses  and  see  them  snap.  The  next 
time  I  go  to  Onabasha  I'll  get  you  some  popular  maga- 
zines, and  you  can  compare  what  is  being  used  with 
what  you  see  here,  and  judge  for  yourself  how  glad  they 
would  be  for  a  change.  And  potteries,  arts  and  crafts 
shops,  and  wall  paper  factories,  they'd  be  crazy  for  the 
designs  I  could  furnish  them.  As  for  money,  there's 
more  in  it  than  the  herbs,  if  I  only  could  draw." 

"I  can  do  that,"  said  the  Girl.  "Trail  the  vine  and 
give  me  an  idea  how  to  scale  it.  I'll  just  make  studies 
now,  and  this  winter  I'll  conventionalize  them  and  work 
them  into  patterns.     Won't  that  be  fun?" 

"That's  more  than  fun,  Ruth,"  said  the  Har- 
vester solemnly.     "That  is  creation.     That  touches  the 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  459 

provinces  of  the  Almighty.  That  is  taking  His  unknown 
wonders  and  making  them  into  pleasure  and  benefit 
for  thousands,  not  to  mention  filling  your  face  with  awe 
divine,  and  lighting  your  eyes  with  interest  and  ambition. 
That  is  life,  Ruth.     You  are  beginning  to  live  right  now. " 

"I  see,"  said  the  Girl.     "I  understand!     I  am!" 

"You  get  your  subjects  now.  When  the  harvest  is 
over  I'll  show  you  what  I  have  in  my  head,  and  before 
Christmas  the  fun  will  begin." 

"What  next?" 

"Sketch  a  sarsaparilla  plant  and  this  yam  vine.  It 
grows  on  your  veranda  too the  rattle  box,  you  re- 
member. The  leaves  and  seeding  arrangements  are 
wonderful.  You  can  do  any  number  of  things  with  them, 
and  all  will  be  new." 

He  called  her  attention  to  and  brought  her  samples 
of  ginger  leaves,  Indian  hemp,  queen-of-the-meadow, 
cone-flower,  burdock,  baneberry,  and  Indian  turnip, 
as  he  harvested  them  in  turn.  When  they  came  to  the 
large  beds  of  orange  pleurisy  root  the  Girl  cried  out  with 
pleasure. 

"We  will  take  its  prosaic  features  first,"  said  the 
Harvester.  "It  is  good  medicine  and  worth  handling. 
Forget  that!  The  Bird  Woman  calls  it  butterfly  flower. 
That's  better.  Now  try  to  analyze  a  single  bloom  of 
this  gaudy  mass,  and  you  will  see  why  there's  poetry 
coming." 

He  knelt  beside  the  Girl,  separating  the  blooms  and 
pointing  out  their  marvellous   colour  and  construction. 


460  THE  HARVESTER 

She  leaned  against  his  shoulder,  and  watched  with  breath- 
less interest.  As  his  bare  head  brought  its  mop  of  damp 
wind-rumpled  hair  close,  she  ran  her  fingers  through  it, 
and  with  her  handkerchief  wiped  his  forehead. 

"Sometimes  I  almost  wish  you'd  get  sick,"  she  said 
irrelevantly. 

"In  the  name  of  common  sense,  why?"  demanded  the 
Harvester. 

"Oh  it  must  be  born  in  the  heart  of  a  woman  to  want 
to  mother  something,"  answered  the  Girl.  "I  feel 
sometimes  as  if  I  would  like  to  take  care  of  you,  as  if 
you  were  a  little  fellow.  David,  I  know  why  your  mother 
fought  to  make  you  the  man  she  desired.  You  must 
have  been  charming  when  small.  I  can  shut  my  eyes 
and  just  see  the  boy  you  were,  and  I  should  have  loved 
you  as  she  did." 

"How  about  the  man  I  am?"  inquired  the  Harvester 
promptly.     "Any  leanings  toward  him  yet,  Ruth?" 

"It's  getting  worser  and  worser  every  day  and  hour," 
said  the  Girl.  "I  don't  understand  it  at  all.  I  wouldn't 
try  to  live  without  you.  I  don't  want  you  to  leave  my 
sight.  Everything  you  do  is  the  way  I  would  have  it. 
Nothing  you  ever  say  shocks  or  offends  me.  I'd  love 
to  render  you  any  personal  service.  I  want  to  take  you 
in  my  arms  and  hug  you  tight  half  a  dozen  times  a 
day  as  a  reward  for  the  kind  and  lovely  things  you  do 
for  me." 

A  dull  red  flamed  up  the  neck  and  over  the  face  of  the 
Harvester.     One  arm  lifted  to  the  chair  back,  the  other 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  461 

dropped  across  the  table  so  that  the  Girl  was  almost 
encircled. 

"For  the  love  of  mercy,  Ruth,  why  haven't  I  had  a 
hint  of  this  before?"     he  cried. 

"You  said  you'd  hate  me.  You  said  you'd  drop  me 
into  the  deepest  part  of  the  lake  if  I  deceived  you;  and 
if  I  have  to  tell  the  truth,  why,  that  is  all  of  it.  I  think 
it  is  nonsense  about  some  wonderful  feeling  that  is  going 
to  take  possession  of  your  heart  when  you  love  any  one. 
I  love  you  so  much  I'd  gladly  suffer  to  save  you  pain  or 
sorrow.  But  there  are  no  thrills;  it's  just  steady,  sober, 
common  sense  that  I  should  love  you,  and  I  do.  Why 
can't  you  be  satisfied  with  what  I  can  give,  David?" 

"Because  it's  husks  and  ashes,"  said  the  Harvester 
grimly.  "You  drive  me  to  desperation,  Ruth.  I  am 
almost  wild  for  your  love,  but  what  you  offer  me  is  plain, 
straight  affection,  nothing  more.  There  isn't  a  trace  of 
the  feeling  that  should  exist  between  man  and  wife  in  it. 
Some  men  might  be  satisfied  to  be  your  husband,  and 
be  regarded  as  a  father  or  brother.  I  am  not.  The  red- 
bird  didn't  want  a  sister,  Ruth,  he  was  asking  for  a  mate. 
So  am  I.  That's  as  plain  as  I  know  how  to  put  it. 
There  is  some  way  to  awaken  you  into  a  living,  loving 
woman,  and,  please  God,  I'll  find  it  yet,  but  I'm  slow 
about  it;  there's  no  question  of  that.  Never  you  mind! 
Don't  worry!  Some  of  these  days  I  have  faith  to  believe 
it  will  sweep  you  as  a  tide  sweeps  the  shore,  and  then  I 
hope  God  will  be  good  enough  to  let  me  be  where  you 
will  land  in  my  arms." 


462  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Girl  sat  looking  at  him  between  narrowed  lids. 
Suddenly  she  took  his  head  between  her  hands,  drew  his 
face  to  hers  and  deliberately  kissed  him.  Then  she  drew 
away  and  searched  his  eyes. 

"There!"  she  challenged.  "What  is  the  matter  with 
that?" 

The  Harvester's  colour  slowly  faded  to  a  sickly  white. 
"Ruth,  you  try  me  almost  beyond  human  endurance," 
he  said.     "  < What's  the  matter  with  that?'"     He  arose, 
stepped  back,  folded  his  arms,  and  stared  at  her.  "  What's 
the  matter  with  that?'"  he  repeated.     "Never  was  I  so 
sorely  tempted  in  all  my  life  as  I  am  now  to  lie  to  you, 
and  say  there  is  nothing,  and  take  you  in  my  arms  and 
try  to  awaken  you  to  what  I  mean  by  love.     But  suppose 
I  do and  fail!     Then  comes  the  agony  of  slow  en- 
durance for  me,  and  the  possibility  that  any  day  you  may 
meet  the  man  who  can  arouse  in  you  the  feelings  I  can- 
not.    That  would  mean  my  oath  broken,  and  my  heart 
as  well;  while  soon  you  would  dislike  me  beyond  tolerance, 
even.     I  dare  not  risk  it!     The  matter  is,  that  was  the 
loving  caress  of  a  ten-year-old  girl  to  a  big  brother  she 
admired.     That's    all!     Not   much,    but    a    mighty   big 
defect  when  it  is  offered  a  strong  man  as  fuel  on  which 
to  feed  consuming  passion.  " 

"Consuming   passion,"    repeated   the   Girl.      "David 
you    never    lie,    and    you    never    exaggerate.     Do    you 

honestly  mean  that  there  is  something oh,  there  is! 

I  can  see  it!     You  are  really  suffering,  and  if  I  come  to 
you,  and  try  my  best  to  comfort  you,  you'll  only  call  it 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  463 

baby  affection  that  you  don't  want.  David,  what  am 
I  going  to  do?" 

"  You  are  going  to  the  cabin, "  said  the  Harvester,  "  and 
cook  us  a  big  supper.  I  am  dreadfully  hungry.  I'll  be  along 
presently.  Don't  worry,  Ruth,  you  are  all  right!  That 
kiss  was  lovely.    Tell  me  that  you  are  not  angry  with  me. " 

Her  eyes  were  wet  as  she  smiled  at  him. 

"If  there  is  a  bigger  brute  than  a  man  anywhere  on  the 
footstool,  I  should  like  to  meet  it,"  said  the  Harvester, 
"and  see  what  it  appears  like.  Go  along,  honey;  I'll 
be  there  as  soon  as  I  load." 

He  drove  to  the  dry-house,  washed  and  spread  his 
reaping  on  the  big  trays,  fed  the  stock,  dressed  in  the 
white  clothing  and  entered  the  kitchen.  That  the  Girl 
had  been  crying  was  obvious,  but  he  overlooked  it, 
helped  with  the  work,  and  then  they  took  a  boat  ride. 
When  they  returned  he  proposed  that  she  should  select 
her  favourite  likeness  of  her  mother,  and  the  next  time 
he  went  to  the  city  he  would  take  it  with  his,  and  order 
the  enlargements  he  had  planned.  To  save  carrying  a 
lighted  lamp  into  the  closet  he  brought  her  little  trunk 
to  the  living-room,  where  she  opened  it  and  hunted  the 
pictures.  There  were  several,  and  all  of  them  were  of  a 
young,  elegantly  dressed  woman  of  great  beauty.  The 
Harvester  studied  them  long. 

"Who  was  she,  Ruth?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  learn. " 

"Can  you  explain  how  the  girl  here  represented  came 
to  marry  a  brother  of  Henry  Jameson?" 


464  THE  HARVESTER 

"Yes.  I  was  past  twelve  when  my  father  came  the 
last  time,  and  I  remember  him  distinctly.  If  Uncle 
Henry  were  properly  clothed,  he  is  not  a  bad  man  in 
appearance,  unless  he  is  very  angry.  He  can  use  proper 
language,  if  he  chooses.  My  father  was  the  best  in  him, 
refined  and  intensified.  He  was  much  taller,  very  good 
looking,  and  he  dressed  and  spoke  well.  They  were 
born  and  grew  to  manhood  in  the  East,  and  came  out 
here  at  the  same  time.  Where  Uncle  Henry  is  a  trickster 
and  a  trader  in  stock,  my  father  went  a  step  higher,  and 

tricked   and   traded   in   men and  women!     Mother 

told  me  this  much  once.  He  saw  her  somewhere  and 
admired  her.  He  learned  who  she  was,  went  to  her 
father's  law  office  and  pretended  he  was  representing 
some  great  business  in  the  West,  until  he  was  welcomed 
as  a  promising  client.  He  hung  around  and  when  she 
came  in  one  day  her  father  was  forced  to  introduce  them. 

The  remainder  is  the  same  world-old  story a  good 

looking,  glib-tongued  man,  plying  every  art  known  to 
an  expert,  on  an  innocent  girl." 

"Is  he  dead,  Ruth?" 

"We  thought  so.     We  hoped  so." 

"Your  mother  did  not  feel  that  her  people  might  be 
suffering  for  her  as  she  was  for  them?" 

"Not  after  she  appealed  to  them  twice  and  received 
no  reply." 

"Perhaps  they  tried  to  find  her.  Maybe  she  has  a 
father  or  mother  who  is  longing  for  word  from  her  now. 
Are  you  very  sure  you  are  right  in  not  wanting  to  know?" 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  465 

"She  never  gave  me  a  hint  from  which  I  could  tell 
who  or  where  they  were.  In  so  gentle  a  woman  as  my 
mother  that  only  could  mean  she  did  not  want  them  to 
know  of  her.  Neither  do  I.  This  is  the  photograph 
I  prefer;  please  use  it." 

"I'll  put  back  the  trunk  in  the  morning,  when  I  can 
see  better,"  said  the  Harvester. 

The  Girl  closed  it,  and  soon  went  to  bed.  But  there 
was  no  sleep  for  the  man.  He  went  into  the  night,  and 
for  hours  he  paced  the  driveway  in  racking  thought. 
Then  he  sat  on  the  step  and  looked  at  Belshazzar  before 
him. 

"Life's  growing  easier  every  minute,  Bel,"  said  the 
Harvester.     "Here's  my  Dream  Girl,  lovely  as  the  most 

golden  instant  of  that  wonderful  dream,  offering  me 

offering  me,  Bel in  my  present  pass,  the  lips  and  the 

love  of  my  little  sister  who  never  was  born.  And  I've 
hurt  Ruth's  feelings,  and  sent  her  to  bed  with  a  heart- 
ache, trying  to  make  her  see  that  it  won't  do.  It  won't, 
Bel !  If  I  can't  have  genuine  love,  I  don't  want  anything. 
I  told  her  so  as  plainly  as  I  could  find  words,  and  set  her 
crying,  and  made  her  unhappy  to  end  a  wonderful  day. 
But  in  some  way  she  has  got  to  learn  that  propinquity, 

tolerance,  approval,  affection,  even is  not  love.     I 

can't  take  the  risk,  after  all  these  years  of  waiting  for 
the  real  thing.     If  I  did,  and  love  never  came,  I  would  end 

well,  I  know  how  I  would  end and  that  would 

spoil  her  life.  I  simply  have  got  to  brace  up,  Bel,  and 
keep  on  trying.     She  thinks  it  is  nonsense  about  thrills, 


466  THE  HARVESTER 

and  some  wonderful  feeling  that  takes  possession  of 
you.  Lord,  Bel!  There  isn't  much  nonsense  about  the 
thing  that  rages  in  my  brain,  heart,  soul,  and  body.  It 
strikes  me  as  the  gravest  reality  that  ever  overtook  a 
man. 

"  She  is  growing  wonderfully  attached  to  me.  'Couldn't 
live  without  me,'  Bel,  that  is  what  she  said.  Maybe 
it  would  be  a  scheme  to  bring  Granny  here  to  stay  with 
her,  and  take  a  few  months  in  some  city  this  winter  on 
those  chemical  points  that  trouble  me.  There  is  an  old 
saying  about  'absence  making  the  heart  grow  fonder.' 
Maybe  separation  is  the  thing  to  work  the  trick.  I've 
tried  about  everything  else  I  know. 

"But  I'm  in  too  much  of  a  hurry!  What  a  fool  a 
man  is!  A  few  weeks  ago,  Bel,  I  said  to  myself  that  if 
Harmon  were  away  and  had  no  part  in  her  life  I'd  be 
the  happiest  man  alive.  Happiest  man  alive!  Bel, 
take  a  look  at  me  now!  Happy!  Well,  why  shouldn't 
I  be  happy?  She  is  here.  She  is  growing  in  strength  and 
beauty  every  hour.  She  cares  more  for  me  day  by  day. 
From  an  outside  viewpoint  it  seems  as  if  I  had  almost 
all  a  man  could  ask  in  reason.  But  when  was  a  strong 
man  in  the  grip  of  love  ever  reasonable?  I  think  the 
Almighty  took  a  pretty  grave  responsibility  when  He 
made  men  as  He  did.  If  I  had  been  He,  and  under- 
stood the  forces  I  was  handling,  I  would,  have  been  too 
big  a  coward  to  do  it.  There  is  nothing  for  me,  Bel,  but 
to  move  on  doing  my  level  best;  and  if  she  doesn't 
awaken  soon,  I  will  try  the  absent  treatment.     As  sure 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  467 

as  you  are  the  most  faithful  dog  a  man  ever  owned,  Bel, 
I'll  try  the  absent  treatment." 

The  Harvester  arose  and  entered  the  cabin,  stepping 
softly,  for  it  was  dark  in  the  Girl's  room,  and  he  could 
not  hear  a  sound  there.  He  turned  up  the  lights  in  the 
living-room.  As  he  did  so  the  first  thing  he  saw  was  the 
little  trunk.  He  looked  at  it  intently,  then  picked  up  a 
book.  Every  page  he  turned  he  glanced  again  at  the 
trunk.  At  last  he  laid  down  the  book  and  sat  staring, 
his  brain  working  rapidly.  He  ended  by  carrying  the 
trunk  to  his  room.  He  darkened  the  living-room, 
lighted  his  own,  drew  the  rain  screens,  and  piece  by  piece 
carefully  examined  the  contents.  There  were  the  pic- 
tures, but  the  name  of  the  photographer  had  been  re- 
moved. There  was  not  a  word  that  would  help  in 
identification.  He  emptied  it  to  the  bottom,  and  as 
he  picked  up  the  last  piece  his  fingers  struck  in  a  pe- 
culiar way  that  did  not  give  the  impression  of  touching 
a  solid  surface.  He  felt  over  it  carefully,  and  when  he 
examined  with  a  candle  he  plainly  could  see  where  the 
cloth  lining  had  been  cut  and  lifted. 

For  a  long  time  he  knelt  staring  at  it,  then  he  delib- 
erately inserted  his  knife  blade  and  raised  it.  The 
cloth  had  been  glued  to  a  heavy  sheet  of  pasteboard  the 
exact  size  of  the  trunk  bottom.  Beneath  it  lay  half  a 
dozen  yellow  letters,  and  face  down  two  tissue-wrapped 
photographs.  The  Harvester  examined  them  first.  They 
were  of  a  man  close  forty,  having  a  strong,  aggressive 
face,    on   which   pride   and    dominant   will   power   were 


468  THE  HARVESTER 

prominently  indicated.  The  other  was  a  reproduction 
of  a  dainty  and  delicate  woman,  with  exquisitely  tender 
and  gentle  features.  Long  the  Harvester  studied  them. 
The  names  of  the  photographer  and  the  city  were  missing. 
There  was  nothing  except  the  faces.  He  could  detect 
traces  of  the  man  in  the  poise  of  the  Girl  and  the  carriage 
of  her  head,  and  suggestions  of  the  woman  in  the  refined 
sweetness  of  her  expression.  Each  picture  represented 
wealth  in  dress  and  taste  in  pose.  Finally  he  laid  them 
together  on  the  table,  picked  up  one  of  the  letters,  and 
read  it.     Then  he  read  all  of  them. 

Before  he  finished,  tears  were  running  down  his  cheeks, 
and  his  resolution  was  formed.  These  were  the  appeals 
of  an  adoring  mother,  crazed  with  fear  for  the  safety  of 
an  only  child,  who  unfortunately  had  fallen  under  the  in- 
fluence of  a  man  the  mother  dreaded  and  feared,  because 
of  her  knowledge  of  life  and  men  of  his  character.  They 
were  one  long,  impassioned  plea  for  the  daughter  not 
to  trust  a  stranger,  not  to  believe  that  vows  of  passion 
could  be  true  when  all  else  in  life  was  false,  not  to  trust 
her  untried  judgment  of  men  and  the  world  against  the 
experience  of  her  parents.  But  whether  the  tears  that 
stained  those  sheets  had  fallen  from  the  eyes  of  the 
suffering  mother  or  the  starved  and  deserted  daughter, 
there  was  no  way  for  the  Harvester  to  know.  One 
thing  was  clear:  It  was  not  possible  for  him  to  rest 
until  he  knew  if  that  woman  yet  lived  and  bore  such 
suffering.  But  every  trace  of  address  had  been 
torn   away,    and   there   was    nothing   to   indicate   where 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  469 

or  in  what  circumstances  these  letters  had  been  writ- 
ten. 

A  long  time  the  Harvester  sat  in  deep  thought.  Then 
he  returned  all  the  letters  save  one.  This  with  the 
pictures  he  made  into  a  packet  that  he  locked  in  his 
desk.  The  trunk  he  replaced  and  then  went  to  bed. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  drove  to  Onabasha  and  posted 
the  parcel.  The  address  it  bore  was  that  of  the  largest 
detective  agency  in  the  country.  Then  he  bought  an 
interesting  book,  a  box  of  fruit,  and  hurried  back  to  the 
Girl.  He  found  her  on  the  veranda,  Belshazzar  stretched 
close  with  one  eye  shut  and  the  other  on  his  charge, 
whose  cheeks  were  flushed  with  lovely  colour  as  she  bent 
over  her  drawing  material.  The  Harvester  went  to 
her  with  a  rush,  and  slipping  his  fingers  under  her  chin, 
tilted  back  her  head  against  him. 

"Got  a  kiss  for  me,  honey?"     he  inquired. 

"No  sir,"  answered  the  Girl  emphatically.  "I  gave 
you  a  perfectly  lovely  one  yesterday,  and  you  said  it 
was  not  right.  I  am  going  to  try  just  once  more,  and 
if  you  say  again  that  it  won't  do,  I'm  going  back  to 
Chicago  or  to  my  dear  Uncle  Henry,  I  haven't  decided 
which." 

Her  lips  were  smiling,  but  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"Why  thank  you,  Ruth!  I  think  that  is  wonderful," 
said  the  Harvester.  "I'll  risk  the  next  one.  In  the 
meantime,  excuse  me  if  I  give  you  a  demonstration 
of  the  real  thing,  just  to  furnish  you  an  idea  of  how  it 
should  be." 


470  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  delivered  the  sample,  and  went  striding 
go  the  marsh.  The  dazed  Girl  sat  staring  at  her  work, 
trying  to  realize  what  had  happened;  for  that  was  the 
first  time  the  Harvester  had  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  and 
it  was  the  material  expression  a  strong  man  gives  the 
woman  he  loves  when  his  heart  is  surging  at  high  tide. 
The  Girl  sat  motionless,  gazing  at  her  study. 

In  the  marsh  she  knew  the  Harvester  was  reaping 
queen-of-the-meadow,  and  around  the  high  borders, 
elecampane  and  burdock.  She  could  hear  his  voice 
in  snatches  of  song  or  cheery  whistle;  notes  that  she 
divined  were  intended  to  keep  her  from  worrying.  Inter- 
mingled with  them  came  the  dog's  bark  of  defiance  as 
he  digged  for  an  escaping  chipmunk,  his  note  of  pleading 
when  he  wanted  a  root  cut  with  the  mattock,  his  cry  of 
discovery  when  he  thought  he  had  found  something  the 
Harvester  would  like,  or  his  yelp  of  warning  when  he 
scented  danger.  The  Girl  looked  down  the  drive  to 
the  lake  and  across  at  the  hedge.  Everywhere  she  saw 
glowing  colour,  with  intermittent  blue  sky  and  green 
leaves,  all  of  it  a  complete  picture,  from  which  nothing 
could  be  spared.  She  turned  slowly  and  looked  toward 
the  marsh,  trying  to  hear  the  words  of  the  song  above 
the  ripple  of  Singing  Water,  and  to  see  the  form  of  the 
man.  Slowly  she  lifted  her  handkerchief  and  pressed 
it  against  her  lips,  as  she  whispered  in  an  awed  voice, 
"My  gracious  Heaven,  is  that  the  kind  of  a  kiss  he  is 

expecting  me  to  give  him?     Why,  I  couldn't not  to 

save  my  life. " 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  471 

She  placed  her  brushes  in  water,  set  the  colour  box 
on  the  paper,  and  went  to  the  kitchen  to  prepare  the 
noon  lunch.  As  she  worked  the  soft  colour  deepened 
in  her  cheeks,  a  new  light  glowed  in  her  eyes,  and  she 
hummed  over  the  tune  that  floated  across  the  marsh. 
She  was  very  busy  when  the  Harvester  came,  but  he 
spoke  casually  of  his  morning's  work,  ate  heartily,  and 
ordered  her  to  take  a  nap  while  he  washed  roots  and 
filled  the  trays,  and  then  they  went  to  the  woods  to- 
gether for  the  afternoon. 

In  the  evening  they  came  home  to  the  cabin  and  finished 
the  day's  work.  As  the  night  was  chilly,  the  Harvester 
heaped  some  bark  in  the  living-room  fireplace,  and  lay 
on  the  rug  before  it,  while  the  Girl  sat  in  an  easy  chair 
and  watched  him  as  he  talked.  He  was  telling  her 
about  some  wonderful  combinations  he  was  going  to 
compound  for  different  ailments  and  he  laughingly 
asked  her  if  she  wanted  to  be  a  millionaire's  wife  and 
live  in  a  palace. 

"Of  course  I  could  if  I  wanted  to!"  she  suggested. 

"You  could!"  cried  the  Harvester.  "All  that  is  neces- 
sary is  to  combine  a  few  proper  drugs  in  one  great  rem- 
edy and  float  it.  That  is  easy!  The  people  will  do  the 
remainder." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  believe  that,"  marvelled  the  Girl. 

"Want  it  proven?"  challenged  the  Harvester. 

"No!"     she  cried  in  swift  alarm.     "What  do  we  want 
with    more    than    we    have?     What   is    there    necessary  , 
to  happiness  that  is  not  ours  now?     Maybe  it  is  true 


472  THE  HARVESTEP 

that  the  'love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil.'  Don't 
you  ever  get  a  lot  just  to  find  out.  You  said  the  night 
I  came  here  that  you  didn't  want  more  than  you  had 
and  now  I  don't.  I  won't  have  it!  It  might  bring 
restlessness  and  discontent.  I've  seen  it  make  other 
people  unhappy  and  separate  them.  I  don't  want  money, 
I  want  work.  You  make  your  remedies  and  offer  them 
to  suffering  humanity  for  just  a  living  profit,  and  I'll 
keep  house  and  draw  designs.  I  am  perfectly  happy, 
free,  and  unspeakably  content.  I  never  dreamed  that 
it  was  possible  for  me  to  be  so  glad,  and  so  filled  with 
the  joy  of  life.     There  is  only  one  thing  on  earth  I  want. 

If  I  only  could " 

"Could  what,  Ruth?" 

"Could  get  that  kiss  right " 

The  Harvester  laughed. 

"Forget  it,  I  tell  you!"  he  commanded.  "Just  so 
long  as  you  worry  and  fret,  so  long  I've  got  to  wait.  If 
you  quit  thinking  about  it,  all  'unbeknownst'  to  yourself 
you'll  awake  some  morning  with  it  on  your  lips.  I 
can  see  traces  of  it  growing  stronger  every  day.  Very 
soon  now  it's  going  to  materialize,  and  then  get  out  of 
my  way,  for  I'll  be  a  whirling,  irresponsible  lunatic, 
with  the  wild  joy  of  it.  Oh  I've  got  faith  in  that  kiss 
of  yours,  Ruth!  It's  on  the  way.  The  fates  have 
booked  it.  There  isn't  a  reason  on  earth  why  I  should 
be  served  so  scurvy  a  trick  as  to  miss  it,  and  I  never  will 

believe  that  I  shall " 

"David,"   interrupted  the  Girl,   "go  on    talking  and 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  473 

don't  move  a  muscle,  just  reach  over  presently  and  fix 
the  fire  or  something,  and  then  turn  naturally  and  look 
at  the  window  beside  your  door." 

« Shall    miss    it,"    said   the   Harvester   steadily. 

"That   would   be   too   unmerciful.     What   do   you   see, 

Ruth?" 

"A  face.  If  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken,  it  is  my 
Uncle  Henry  and  he  appears  like  a  perfect  fiend.  Oh 
David,  I  am  afraid!" 

"Be  quiet  and  don't  look,"  said  the  Harvester. 

He  turned  and  tossed  a  piece  of  bark  on  the  fire. 
Then  he  reached  for  the  poker,  pushed  it  down  and 
stirred  the  coals.     He  arose  as  he  worked. 

"Rise  slowly  and  quietly  and  go  to  your  room.  Stay 
there  until  I  call  you." 

With  the  Girl  out  of  the  way,  the  Harvester  pottered 
over  the  fire,  and  when  the  flame  leaped  he  lifted  a  stick 
of  wood,  hesitated  as  if  it  were  too  small,  and  laying  it 
down,  started  to  bring  a  larger  one.  In  the  dining- 
room  he  caught  a  small  stick  from  the  wood  box,  softly 
stepped  from  the  door,  and  ran  around  the  house.  But 
he  awakened  Belshazzar  on  the  kitchen  floor,  and  the 
dog  barked  and  ran  after  him.  By  the  time  the  Harves- 
ter reached  the  corner  of  his  room  the  man  leaped  upon 
a  horse  and  went  racing  down  the  drive.  The  Harvester 
flung  the  stick  of  wood,  but  missed  the  man  and  hit 
the  horse.  The  dog  sprang  past  the  Harvester  and 
vanished.  There  was  the  sound  and  flash  of  a  revolver, 
and  the  rattle  of  the  bridge  as  the  horse  crossed  it.     The 


474  THE  HARVESTER 

dog  came  back  unharmed.  The  Harvester  ran  to  the 
telephone,  called  the  Onabasha  police,  and  asked  them 
to  send  a  mounted  man  to  meet  the  intruder  before  he 
could  reach  a  cross  road;  but  they  were  too  slow  and 
missed  him.  However,  the  Girl  was  certain  she  had 
recognized  her  uncle,  and  was  extremely  nervous;  but 
the  Harvester  only  laughed  and  told  her  it  was  a  trip 
made  out  of  curiosity.  Her  uncle  wanted  to  see  if 
he  could  learn  if  she  were  well  and  happy,  and  he  finally 
convinced  her  that  this  was  the  case,  although  he  was 
not  very  sanguine  himself. 

For  the  next  three  days  the  Harvester  worked  in  the 
woods  and  he  kept  the  Girl  with  him  every  minute. 
By  the  end  of  that  time  he  really  had  persuaded  himself 
that  it  was  merely  curiosity.  So  through  the  cooling 
fall  days  they  worked  together.  They  were  very  happy. 
Before  her  wondering  eyes  the  Harvester  hung  queer 
branches,  burs,  nuts,  berries,  and  trailing  vines  with 
curious  seed  pods.  There  were  masses  of  brilliant 
flowers,  most  of  them  strange  to  the  Girl,  many  to  the 
great  average  of  humanity.  While  she  sat  bending  over 
them,  beside  her  the  Harvester  delved  in  the  black  earth 
of  the  woods,  or  the  clay  and  sand  of  the  open  hillside, 
or  the  muck  of  the  lake  shore,  and  lifted  large  bagfuls 
of  roots  that  he  later  drenched  on  the  floating  raft  on 
the  lake,  and  when  they  had  drained  he  dried  them. 
Some  of  them  he  did  not  wet,  but  scraped  and  wiped 
clean  and  dry.  Often  after  she  was  sleeping,  and  long 
before  she  awoke  in  the  morning,  he  was  at  work  carry- 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  475 

ing  heaped  trays  from  the  evaporator  to  the  store- 
room, and  tying  the  roots,  leaves,  bark,  and  seeds  into 
packages. 

While  he  gathered  trillium  roots  the  Girl  made  draw- 
ings of  the  plant  and  learned  its  commercial  value. 
She  drew  lady's  slipper  and  Solomon's  seal,  and  learned 
their  uses  and  prices;  and  carefully  traced  wild  ginger 
leaves  while  nibbling  the  aromatic  root.  It  was  difficult 
to  keep  from  protesting  when  the  work  carried  them 
around  the  lake  shore  and  to  the  pokeberry  beds,  for  the 
colour  of  these  she  loved.  It  required  careful  explanation 
as  to  the  value  of  the  roots  and  seeds  as  blood  purifier, 
and  the  argument  that  in  a  few  more  days  the  frost 
would  level  the  bed,  to  induce  her  to  consent  to  its 
harvesting.  But  when  the  case  was  properly  presented, 
she  put  aside  her  drawing  and  stained  her  slender  fingers 
gathering  the  seeds,  and  loved  the  work. 

The  sun  was  golden  on  the  lake,  the  birds  of  the  upland 
were  clustering  over  reeds  and  rushes,  for  the  sake  of 
plentiful  seed  and  convenient  water.  Many  of  them 
sang  fitfully,  the  notes  of  almost  all  of  them  were  melo- 
dious, and  the  day  was  a  long,  happy  dream.  There 
was  but  little  left  to  gather  until  ginseng  time.  For 
that  the  Harvester  had  engaged  several  boys  to  help 
him,  for  the  task  of  digging  the  roots,  washing  and  drying 
them,  burying  part  of  the  seeds  and  preparing  the  re- 
mainder for  market  seemed  endless  for  one  man  to 
attempt.  After  a  full  day  the  Harvester  lay  before  the 
fire,  and  his  head  was  so  close  the  Girl's  knee  that  her 


476  THE  HARVESTER 

fingers  were  in  reach  of  his  hair.  Every  time  he  mended 
the  fire  he  moved  a  little,  until  he  could  feel  the  touch 
of  her  garments  against  him.  Then  he  began  to  plan 
for  the  winter;  how  they  would  store  food  for  the  long, 
cold  days,  how  much  fuel  would  be  required,  when 
they  would  go  to  the  city  for  their  winter  clothing, 
what  they  would  read,  and  how  they  would  work  to- 
gether at  the  drawings. 

"I  am  almost  too  anxious  to  wait  longer  to  get  back 
to  my  carving, "  he  said.  "Whoever  would  have  thought 
this  spring  that  fall  would  come  and  find  the  birds  talking 
of  going,  the  caterpillars  spinning  winter  quarters,  the 
animals  holing  up,  me  getting  ready  for  the  cold,  and 
your  candlesticks  not  finished.  Winter  is  when  you 
really  need  them.  Then  there  is  solid  cheer  in  numbers 
of  candles  and  a  roaring  wood  fire.  The  furnace  is  going 
to  be  a  good  thing  to  keep  the  floors  and  the  bathroom 
warm,  but  an  open  fire  of  dry,  crackling  wood  is  the 
only  rational  source  of  heat  in  a  home.  You  must 
watch  for  the  fairy  dances  on  the  backwall,  Ruth,  and 
learn  to  trace  goblin  faces  in  the  coals.  Sometimes  there 
is  a  panorama  of  temples  and  trees,  and  you  will  find 
exquisite  colour  in  the  smoke.  Dry  maple  makes  a 
lovely  lavender,  soft  and  fine  as  a  floating  veil,  and  damp 
elm  makes  a  blue,  and  hickory  red  and  yellow.  I  almost 
can  tell  which  wood  is  burning  after  the  bark  is  gone,  by 
the  smoke  and  flame  colour.  When  the  little  red  fire 
fairies  come  out  and  dance  on  the  backwall  it  is  fun 
to  figure  what  they  are  celebrating.     By  the  way,  Ruth, 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  477 

I  have  been  a  lamb  for  days.  I  hope  you  have  observed! 
But  I  would  sleep  a  little  sounder  to-night  if  you  only 
could  give  me  a  hint  whether  that  kiss  is  coming  on 
at  all." 

He  tipped  back  his  head  to  see  her  face,  and  it  was 
glorious  in  the  red  firelight;  the  big  eyes  never  appeared 
so  deep  and  dark.  The  tilted  head  struck  her  hand, 
and  her  fingers  ran  through  his  hair. 

"You  said  to  forget  it,"  she  reminded  him,  "and  then 
it  would  come  sooner." 

"Which  same  translated  means  that  it  is  not  here  yet. 
Well,  I  didn't  expect  it,  so  I  am  not  disappointed;  but 
begorry,  I  do  wish  it  would  materialize  by  Christmas. 
I  think  I  will  work  for  that.  Wouldn't  it  make  a  day 
worth  while,  though?  By  the  way,  what  do  you  want 
for  Christmas,  Ruth?" 

"A  doll,"  she  answered. 

The  Harvester  laughed.  He  tipped  his  head  again 
to  see  her  face  and  suddenly  grew  quiet,  for  it  was  very 
serious. 

"I  am  quite  in  earnest,"  she  said.  "I  think  the  big 
dolls  in  the  stores  are  beautiful,  and  I  never  owned  only 
a  teeny  little  one.  All  my  life  I've  wanted  a  big  doll  as 
badly  as  I  ever  longed  for  anything  that  was  not  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  keep  me  alive.  In  fact,  a  doll  is 
essential  to  a  happy  childhood.  The  mother  instinct 
is  so  ingrained  in  a  girl  that  if  she  doesn't  have  dolls 
to  love,  even  as  a  baby,  she  is  deprived  of  a  part  of  her 
natural   rights.     It's   a   pitiful   thing   to  have   been   the 


47§  THE  HARVESTER 

little  girl  in  the  picture  who  stands  outside  the  window 
and  gazes  with  longing  soul  at  the  doll  she  is  anxious 
to  own  and  can't  ever  have.  Harvester,  I  was  always 
that  little  girl.  I  am  quite  in  earnest.  I  want  a  big, 
beautiful  doll  more  than  anything  else. " 

As  she  talked  the  Girl's  fingers  were  idly  threading 
the  Harvester's  hair.  His  head  lightly  touched  her 
knee,  and  she  shifted  her  position  to  afford  him  a  com- 
fortable resting  place.  With  a  thrill  of  delight  that 
shook  him,  the  man  laid  his  head  in  her  lap  and  looked 
into  the  fire,  his  face  glowing  as  a  happy  boy's. 

'You  shall  have  the  loveliest  doll  that  money  can  buy, 
Ruth,"  he  promised.     "What  else  do  you  want?" 

"A  roasted  goose,  plum  pudding,  and  all  those  horrid 
indigestible  things  that  Christmas  stories  always  tell 
about;  and  popcorn  balls,  and  candy,  and  everything 
I've  always  wanted  and  never  had,  and  a  long  beautiful 
day  with  you.     That's  all!" 

"Ruth,  I'm  so  happy  I  almost  wish  I  could  go  to 
Heaven  right  now  before  anything  occurs  to  spoil  this," 
said  the  Harvester. 

The  wheels  of  a  car  rattled  across  the  bridge.  He 
whirled  to  his  knees,  and  put  his  arms  around  the 
Girl. 

"Ruth,"  he  said  huskily.  "I'll  wager  a  thousand 
dollars  I  know  what  is  coming.     Hug  me  tight,  quick! 

and  give  me  the  best  kiss  you  can any  old  kind  of  a 

one,  so  you  touch  my  lips  with  yours  before  I've  got 
to  open  that  door  and  let  in  trouble." 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  479 

The  Girl  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  with  the 
imprint  of  her  lips  warm  on  his  the  Harvester  crossed 
the  room,  and  his  heart  dropped  from  the  heights  with  a 
thud.  He  stepped  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  and 
crossing  the  veranda,  passed  down  the  walk.  He  recog- 
nized the  car  as  belonging  to  a  garage  in  Onabasha,  and 
in  it  sat  two  men,  one  of  whom  spoke. 

"Are  you  David  Langston?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"Did  you  send  a  couple  of  photographs  to  a  New 
York  detective  agency  a  few  days  ago  with  inquiries 
concerning  some  parties  you  wanted  located  ?" 

"I  did,"  said  the  Harvester.  "But  I  was  not  expect- 
ing any  such  immediate  returns." 

"Your  questions  touched  on  a  case  that  long  has  been 
in  the  hands  of  the  agency,  and  they  telegraphed  the 
parties.  The  following  day  the  people  had  a  letter, 
giving  them  the  information  they  required,  from  another 
source." 

"That  is  where  Uncle  Henry  showed  his  fine  Spen- 
cerian  hand,"  commented  the  Harvester.  "It  always 
will  be  a  great  satisfaction  that  I  got  my  fist  in  first. " 

"Is  Miss  Jameson  here?" 

"No, "  said  the  Harvester.  "My  wife  is  at  home.  Her 
surname  was  Ruth  Jameson,  but  we  have  been  married 
since  June.     Did  you  wish  to  speak  with  Airs.  Langston  ? " 

"I  came  for  that  purpose.  My  name  is  Kennedy. 
I  am  the  law  partner  and  the  closest  friend  of  the  young 
lady's  grandfather.     News  of  her  location  has  prostrated 


480  THE  HARVESTER 

her  grandmother  so  that  he  could  not  leave  her,  and  I 
was  sent  to  bring  the  young  woman." 

"Oh!"  said  the  Harvester.  "Well  you  will  have  to 
interview  her  about  that.  One  word  first.  She  does 
not  know  that  I  sent  those  pictures  and  made  that 
inquiry.  One  other  word.  She  is  just  recovering  from 
a  case  of  fever,  induced  by  wrong  conditions  of  life 
before  I  met  her.  She  is  not  so  strong  as  she  appears. 
Understand  you  are  not  to  be  abrupt.  Go  very  gently! 
Her  feelings  and  health  must  be  guarded  with  extreme 
care." 

The  Harvester  opened  the  door,  and  as  she  saw  the 
stranger,  the  Girl's  eyes  widened  and  she  arose  and 
stood  waiting. 

"Ruth,"  said  the  Harvester,  "this  is  a  man  who  has 
been  making  quite  a  search  for  you,  and  at  last  he  has 
you  located." 

The  Harvester  went  to  the  Girl's  side,  and  put  a 
reinforcing  arm  around  her. 

"Perhaps  he  brings  you  some  news  that  will  make 
life  most  interesting  and  very  lovely  for  you.  Will 
you  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Kennedy?" 

The  Girl  suddenly  straightened  to  unusual  height. 

"I  will  hear  why  he  has  been  making  'quite  a  search 
for  me,'  and  on  whose  authority  he  has  me  'located,' 
first,"  she  said. 

A  diabolical  grin  crossed  the  face  of  the  Harvester, 
and  he  took  heart. 

"Then    please    be    seated,    Mr.    Kennedy,"    he    said, 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  481 

"and  we  will  talk  over  the  matter.     As  I  understand, 
you  are  a  representative  of  my  wife's  people." 

The  Girl  stared  at  the  Harvester. 

"Take  your  chair,  Ruth,  and  meet  this  as  a  matter 
of  course,"  he  advised  casually.  "You  always  have 
known  that  some  day  it  must  come.  You  couldn't 
look  in  the  face  of  those  photographs  of  your  mother 
in  her  youth  and  not  realize  that  somewhere  hearts 
were  aching  and  breaking,  and  brains  were  busy  in  a 
search  for  her." 

The  Girl  stood  rigid. 

"I  want  it  distinctly  understood,"  she  said,  "that  I 
have  no  use  on  earth  for  my  mother's  people.  They 
come  too  late.  I  absolutely  refuse  to  see  or  to  hold  any 
communication  with  them." 

"But  young  lady,  that  is  very  arbitrary!"  cried  Mr. 
Kennedy.  "You  don't  understand!  They  are  a  couple 
of  old  people,  and  they  are  slowly  dying  of  broken  hearts ! " 

"Not  so  badly  broken  or  they  wouldn't  die  slowly," 
commented  the  Girl  grimly.  "The  heart  that  was  really 
broken  was  my  mother's.  The  torture  of  a  starved, 
overworked  body  and  hopeless  brain  was  hers.  There 
was  nothing  slow  about  her  death,  for  she  went  out  with 
only  half  a  life  spent,  and  much  of  that  in  acute  agony, 
because  of  their  negligence.  David,  you  often  have 
said  that  this  is  my  home.  I  choose  to  take  you  at 
your  word.  Will  you  kindly  tell  this  man  that  he  is 
not  welcome  in  this  house,  and  I  wish  him  to  leave  it 
at  once?" 


482  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  stepped  back,  and  his  face  grew  very 
white. 

"I  can't,  Ruth,"  he  said  gently. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  I  brought  him  here." 

"You  brought  him  here!  You!  David,  are  you 
crazy?     You!" 

"It  is  through  me  that  he  came." 

The  Girl  caught  the  mantel  for  support. 

"Then  I  stand  alone  again,"  she  said.  "Harvester, 
I  had  thought  you  were  on  my  side." 

"I  am  at  your  feet,"  said  the  man  in  a  broken  voice. 
"Ruth  dear,  will  you  let  me  explain?" 

"There  is  only  one  explanation,  and  with  what  you 
have  done  for  me  fresh  in  my  mind,  I  can't  put  it  into 
words." 

"Ruth,  hear  me!" 

"I  must!  You  force  me!  But  before  you  speak 
understand  this:  Not  now,  or  through  all  eternity,  do 
I  forgive  the  inexcusable  neglect  that  drove  my  mother 
to  what  I  witnessed  and  was  helpless  to  avert." 

"My  dear!  My  dear!"  said  the  Harvester,  "I  had 
hoped  the  woods  had  done  a  more  perfect  work  in  your 
heart.  Your  mother  is  lying  in  state  now,  Girl,  safe 
from  further  suffering  of  any  kind;  and  if  I  read  aright, 
her  tired  face  and  shrivelled  frame  were  eloquent  of 
forgiveness.  Ruth  dear,  if  she  so  loved  them  that  her 
heart  was  broken  and  she  died  for  them,  think  what 
they  are  suffering!     Have  some  mercy  on  them." 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  483 

"Get  this  very  clear,  David,"  said  the  Girl.  "She 
died  of  hunger  for  food.  Her  heart  was  not  so  broken 
that  she  couldn't  have  lived  a  lifetime,  and  got  much 
comfort  out  of  it,  if  her  body  had  not  lacked  sustenance. 
Oh  I  was  so  happy  a  minute  ago.  David,  why  did  you 
do  this  thing?" 

The  Harvester  picked  up  the  Girl,  placed  her  in  a 
chair,  and  knelt  beside  her  with  his  arms  around  her. 

"Because  of  the  pain  in  the  world,  Ruth,"  he  said 
simply.  "Your  mother  is  sleeping  sweetly  in  the  long 
sleep  that  knows  neither  anger  nor  resentment;  and  so 
I  was  forced  to  think  of  a  gentle-faced,  little  old  mother 
whose  heart  is  daily  one  long  ache,  whose  eyes  are  dim 
with  tears,  and  a  proud,  broken  old  man  who  spends  his 
time  trying  to  comfort  her,  when  his  life  is  as  desolate 
as  hers." 

"How  do  you  know  so  wonderfully  much  about  their 
aches  and  broken  hearts?" 

"  Because  I  have  seen  their  faces  when  they  were  happy, 
Ruth,  and  so  I  know  what  suffering  would  do  to  them. 
There  were  pictures  of  them  and  letters  in  the  bottom 
of  that  old  trunk.  I  searched  it  the  other  night  and 
found  them;  and  by  what  life  has  done  to  your  mother 
and  to  you,  I  can  judge  what  it  is  now  bringing  them. 
Never  can  you  be  truly  happy,  Ruth,  until  you  have 
forgiven  them,  and  done  what  you  can  to  comfort  the 
remainder  of  their  lives.  I  did  it  because  of  the  pain 
in  the  world,  my  girl." 

"What  about  my  pain?' 


484  THE  HARVESTER 

"The  only  way  on  earth  to  cure  it  is  through  forgive- 
ness. That,  and  that  only,  will  ease  it  all  away,  and 
leave  you  happy  and  free  for  life  and  love.  So  long  as 
you  let  this  rancour  eat  in  your  heart,  Ruth,  you  are  not, 
and  never  can  be,  normal.  You  must  forgive  them, 
dear,  hear  what  they  have  to  say,  and  give  them  the 
comfort  of  seeing  what  they  can  discover  of  her  in  you. 
Then  your  heart  will  be  at  rest  at  last,  your  soul  free, 
you  can  take  your  rightful  place  in  life,  and  the  love 
you  crave  will  awaken  in  your  heart.  Ruth,  dear,  you 
are  the  acme  of  gentleness  and  justice.  Be  just  and 
gentle  now!  Give  them  their  chance!  My  heart  aches, 
and  always  will  ache  for  the  pain  you  have  known,  but 
nursing  and  brooding  over  it  will  not  cure  it.  It  is 
going  to  take  a  heroic  operation  to  cut  it  out,  and  I 
chose  to  be  the  surgeon.  You  have  said  that  I  once 
saved  your  body  from  pain  Ruth,  trust  me  now  to 
free  your  soul." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"I  want  you  to  speak  kindly  to  this  man,  who  through 
my  act  has  come  here,  and  allow  him  to  tell  you  why 
he  came.  Then  I  want  you  to  do  the  kind  and  womanly 
thing  your  duty  suggests  that  you  should. " 

"David,  I  don't  understand  you!" 

"That  is  no  difference,"  said  the  Harvester.  "The 
point  is,  do  you  trust  me?" 

The  Girl  hesitated.  "Of  course  I  do,"  she  said  at 
last. 

"Then  hear  what  your  grandfather's  friend  has  come 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  485 

to  say  for  him,  and  forget  yourself  in  doing  to  others 

as    you    would    have    them really,    Ruth,    that    is 

all  of  religion  or  of  life  worth  while.  Go  on,  Mr.  Ken- 
nedy." 

The  Harvester  drew  up  a  chair,  seated  himself  beside 
the  Girl,  and  taking  one  of  her  hands,  he  held  it  closely 
and  waited. 

"I  was  sent  here  by  my  law  partner  and  my  closest 
friend,  Mr.  Alexander  Herron,  of  Philadelphia,"  said 
the  stranger.  "Both  he  and  Mrs.  Herron  were  bitterly 
opposed  to  your  mother's  marriage,  because  they  knew 
life  and  human  nature,  and  there  never  is  but  one  end 
to  men  such  as  she  married." 

"You  may  omit  that,"  said  the  Girl  coldly.  "Simply 
state  why  you  are  here." 

"In  response  to  an  inquiry  from  your  husband  con- 
cerning the  originals  of  some  photographs  he  sent  to  a 
detective  agency  in  New  York.  They  have  had  the 
case  for  years,  and  recognizing  the  pictures  as  a  clue, 
they  telegraphed  Mr.  Herron.  The  prospect  of  news 
after  years  of  fruitless  searching  so  prostrated  Mrs. 
Herron  that  he  dared  not  leave  her,  and  he  sent  me. " 

"Kindly  tell  me  this,"  said  the  Girl.  "Where  were 
my  mother's  father  and  mother  for  the  four  years  im- 
mediately following  her  marriage?" 

"They  went  to  Europe  to  avoid  the  humiliation  of 
meeting  their  friends.  There,  in  Italy,  Mrs.  Herron 
developed  a  fever,  and  it  was  several  years  before  she 
could  be  brought  home.     She  retired  from  society,  and 


486  THE  HARVESTER 

has  been  confined  to  her  room  ever  since.  When  they 
could  return,  a  search  was  instituted  at  once  for  their 
daughter,  but  they  never  have  been  able  to  find  a  trace. 
They  have  hunted  through  every  eastern  city  they 
thought  might  contain  her." 

"And  overlooked  a  little  insignificant  place  like  Chi- 
cago, of  course. " 

"I  myself  conducted  a  personal  search  there,  and 
visited  the  home  of  every  Jameson  in  the  directory  or 
who  had  mail  at  the  office  or  of  whom  I  could  get  a  clue 
of  any  sort." 

"I  don't  suppose  two  women  in  a  little  garret  room 
would  be  in  the  directory,  and  there  never  was  any  mail. " 

"Did  your  mother  ever  appeal  to  her  parents?" 

"She  did,"  said  the  Girl.  "She  admitted  that  she 
had  been  wrong,  asked  their  forgiveness,  and  begged  to 
go  home.  That  was  in  the  second  year  of  her  marri- 
age, and  she  was  in  Cleveland.  Afterward  she  went  to 
Chicago,  from  there  she  wrote  again. " 

"Her  father  and  mother  were  in  Italy  fighting  for  the 
mother's  life,  two  years  after  that.  It  is  very  easy  to 
become  lost  in  a  large  city.  Criminals  do  it  every  day 
and  are  never  found,  even  with  the  best  detectives  on 
their  trail.  I  am  very  sorry  about  this.  My  friends 
will  be  broken-hearted.  At  any  time  they  would  have 
been  more  than  delighted  to  have  had  their  daughter 
return.  A  letter  on  the  day  following  the  message  from 
the  agency  brought  news  that  she  was  dead,  and  now 
their  only  hope  for  any  small  happiness  at  the  close  of 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  487 

years  of  suffering  lies  with  you.  I  was  sent  to  plead 
with  you  to  return  with  me  at  once  and  make  them  a 
visit.  Of  course,  their  home  is  yours.  You  are  their 
only  heir,  and  they  would  be  very  happy  if  you  were 
free,  and  would  remain  permanently  with  them." 

"How  do  they  know  I  will  not  be  like  the  father  they 
so  detested?" 

"They  had  sufficient  cause  to  dislike  him.  They  have 
every  reason  to  love  and  welcome  you.  They  are  con- 
sumed with  anxiety.     Will  you  come?" 

"No.  This  is  for  me  to  decide.  I  do  not  care  for 
them  or  their  property.  Always  they  have  failed  me 
when  my  distress  was  unspeakable.  Now  there  is  only 
one  thing  I  ask  of  life,  more  than  my  husband  has  given 
me,  and  if  that  lay  in  his  power  I  would  have  it.  You 
may  go  back  and  tell  them  that  I  am  perfectly  happy. 
I  have  everything  I  need.  They  can  give  me  nothing 
I  want,  not  even  their  love.  Perhaps,  sometime,  I  will 
go  to  see  them  for  a  few  days,  if  David  will  go  with 
me." 

"Young  woman,  do  you  realize  that  you  are  issuing 
a  death  sentence?"     asked  the  lawyer  gently. 

"It  is  a  just  one." 

"I  do  not  believe  your  husband  agrees  with  you. 
I  know  I  do  not.  Mrs.  Herron  is  a  tiny  old  lady,  with 
a  feeble  spark  of  vitality  left;  and  with  all  her  strength 
she  is  clinging  to  life,  and  pleading  with  it  to  give  her 
word  of  her  only  child  before  she  goes  out  unsatisfied. 
She  knows  that  her  daughter  is  gone,  and  now  her  hopes 


488  THE  HARVESTER 

are  fastened  on  you.  If  for  only  a  few  days,  you  cer- 
tainly must  go  with  me." 

"I  will  not!" 

The  lawyer  turned  to  the  Harvester. 

"She  will  be  ready  to  start  with  you  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, on  the  first  train  north,"  said  the  Harvester.  "We 
will  meet  you  at  the  station  at  eight. " 

"  I I  am  afraid  I  forgot  to  tell  my  driver  to  wait. " 

"You  mean  your  instructions  were  not  to  let  the  Girl 
out  of  your  sight,"  said  the  Harvester.  "Very  well! 
We  have  comfortable  rooms.  I  will  show  you  to  one. 
Please  come  this  way. " 

The  Harvester  led  the  guest  to  the  lake  room  and 
arranged  for  the  night.  Then  he  went  to  the  telephone 
and  sent  a  message  to  an  address  he  had  been  furnished, 
asking  for  an  immediate  reply.  It  went  to  Philadelphia 
and  contained  a  description  of  the  lawyer,  and  asked  if 
he  had  been  sent  by  Mr.  Herron  to  escort  his  grand- 
daughter to  his  home.  When  the  Harvester  returned 
to  the  living-room  the  Girl,  white  and  defiant,  waited 
before  the  fire.  He  knelt  beside  her  and  put  his  arms 
around  her,  but  she  repulsed  him;  so  he  sat  on  the  rug 
and  looked  at  her. 

"No  wonder  you  felt  sure  you  knew  what  that  was!" 
she  cried  bitterly. 

"Ruth,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  lift  the  bottom  of  that 
old  trunk,  and  if  you  will  read  any  one  of  the  half  dozen 
letters  I  read,  you  will  forgive  me,  and  begin  making 
preparations  to  go." 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  489 

"It's  a  wonder  you  don't  hold  them  before  me  and 
force  me  to  read  them,"  she  said. 

"Don't  say  anything  you  will  be  sorry  for  after  you 
are  gone,  dear." 

"I'm  not  going!" 

"Oh  yes  you  are!" 

"Why?" 

"Because  it  is  right  that  you  should,  and  right  is 
inexorable.  Also,  because  I  very  much  wish  you  to; 
you  will  do  it  for  me." 

"Why  do  you  want  me  to  go?" 

"I  have  three  strong  reasons:  First,  as  I  told  you, 
it  is  the  only  thing  that  will  cleanse  your  heart  of  bitter- 
ness and  leave  it  free  for  the  tenanting  of  a  great  and 
holy  love.  Next,  I  think  they  honestly  made  every 
effort  to  find  your  mother,  and  are  now  growing  old  in 
despair  you  can  lighten,  and  you  owe  it  to  them  and 
yourself  to  do  it.  Lastly,  for  my  sake.  I've  tried  every- 
thing I  know,  Ruth,  and  I  can't  make  you  love  me,  or 
bring  you  to  a  realizing  sense  of  it  if  you  do.  So  before 
I  saw  that  chest  I  had  planned  to  harvest  my  big  crop, 
and  try  with  all  my  heart  while  I  did  it,  and  if  love 
hadn't  come  then,  I  meant  to  get  some  one  to  stay  with 
you,  and  I  was  going  away  to  give  you  a  free  perspective 
for  a  time.  I  meant  to  plead  that  I  needed  a  few  weeks 
with  a  famous  chemist  I  know  to  prepare  me  better  for 
my  work.  My  real  motive  was  to  leave  you,  and  let 
you  see  if  absence  could  do  anything  for  me  in  your 
heart.     You've   been   very   nearly   the   creature   of  my 


49o  THE  HARVESTER 

hands  for  months,  my  girl;  whatever  any  one  else  may 
do,  you're  bound  to  miss  me  mightily,  and  I  figured 
that  with  me  away,  perhaps  you  could  solve  the  problem 
alone  I  seem  to  fail  in  helping  you  with.  This  is  only 
a  slight  change  of  plans.  You  are  going  in  my  stead. 
I  will  harvest  the  ginseng  and  cure  it,  and  then,  if  you 
are  not  at  home,  and  the  loneliness  grows  unbearable, 
I  will  take  the  chemistry  course,  until  you  decide  when 
you  will  come,  if  ever. " 

'"If  ever?'" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  am  growing  accus- 
tomed  to  facing  big  propositions 1  will  not  dodge 

this.  The  faces  of  the  three  of  your  people  I  have  seen 
prove  refinement.  Their  clothing  indicates  wealth.  These 
long,  lonely  years  mean  that  they  will  shower  you  with 
every  outpouring  of  loving,  hungry  hearts.  They  will 
keep  you  if  they  can,  my  dear.  I  do  not  blame  them. 
The  life  I  propose  for  you  is  one  of  work,  mostly  for 
others,  and  the  reward,  in  great  part,  consists  of  the  joy 
in  the  soul  of  the  creator  of  things  that  help  in  the  world. 
I  realize  that  you  will  find  wealth,  luxury,  and  lavish 
love.  I  know  that  I  may  lose  you  forever,  and  if  it  is 
right  and  best  for  you,  I  hope  I  will.  I  know  exactly 
what  I  am  risking,  but  I  yet  say,  go." 

"I  don't  see  how  you  can,  and  love  me  as  you  prove 
you  do." 

"That  is  a  little  streak  of  the  inevitableness  of  nature 
that  the  forest  has  ground  into  my  soul.  I'd  rather 
cut  off  my  right  hand  than  take  yours  with  it,  in  the 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE  491 

parting  that  will  come  in  the  morning;  but  you  are 
going,  and  I  am  sending  you.  So  long  as  I  am  shaped 
like  a  human  being,  it  is  in  me  to  dignify  the  possession 
of  a  vertical  spine  by  acting  as  nearly  like  a  man  as  I 
know  how.  I  insist  that  you  are  my  wife,  because  it 
crucifies  me  to  think  otherwise.  I  tell  you  to-night, 
Ruth,  you  are  not  and  never  have  been.  You  are  free 
as  air.  You  married  me  without  any  love  for  me  in 
your  heart,  and  you  pretended  none.  It  was  all  my 
doing.  If  I  find  that  I  was  wrong,  I  will  free  you  without 
a  thought  of  results  to  me.  I  am  a  secondary  proposition. 
I  thought  then  that  you  were  alone  and  helpless,  and 
before  the  Almighty,  I  did  the  best  I  could.  But  I 
know  now  that  you  are  entitled  to  the  love  of  relatives, 
wealth,  and  high  social  position,  no  doubt.  If  I  allowed 
the  passion  in  my  heart  to  triumph  over  the  reason  of 
my  brain,  and  worked  on  your  feelings  and  tied  you  to 
the  woods,  without  knowing  but  that  you  might  greatly 
prefer  that  other  life  you  do  not  know,  but  to  which 
you  are  entitled,  I  would  go  out  and  sink  myself  in 
Loon  Lake." 

"David,  I  love  you.  I  do  not  want  to  go.  Please, 
please  let  me  remain  with  you." 

"Not  if  you  could  say  that  realizing  what  it  means, 
and  give  me  the  kiss  right  now  I  would  stake  my  soul 
to  win!  Not  by  any  bribe  you  can  think  of  or  any 
allurement  you  can  offer.  It  is  right  that  you  go  to 
those  suffering  old  people.  It  is  right  you  know  what 
you  are  refusing  for  me,  before  you  renounce  it.     It  is 


492  THE  HARVESTER 

right  you  take  the  position  to  which  you  are  entitled, 
until  you  understand  thoroughly  whether  this  suits  you 
better.  When  you  know  that  life  as  well  as  this,  the 
people  you  will  meet  as  intimately  as  me,  then  you  can 
decide  for  all  time,  and  I  can  look  you  in  the  face  with 
honest,  unwavering  eye;  and  if  by  any  chance  your 
heart  is  in  the  woods,  and  you  prefer  me  and  the  cabin 

to  what  they  have  to  offer to  all  eternity  your  place 

here  is  vacant,  Ruth.  My  love  is  waiting  for  you; 
and  if  you  come  under  those  conditions,  I  never  can  have 
any  regret.  A  clear  conscience  is  worth  restraining  pas- 
sion a  few  months  to  gain,  and  besides,  I  always  have  got 
the  fact  to  face  that  when  you  say  'I  love,'  and  when 
I  say  'I  love,'  it  means  two  entirely  different  things. 
When  you  realize  that  the  love  of  man  for  woman,  and 
woman  for  man,  is  a  thing  that  floods  the  heart,  brain, 
soul,  and  body  with  a  wonderful  and  all-pervading 
ecstasy,  and  if  I  happen  to  be  the  man  who  makes  you 
realize  it,  then  come  tell  me,  and  we  will  show  God  and 
His  holy  angels  what  earth  means  by  the  Heaven  in- 
spired word,  'radiance.'" 

"David,  there  never  will  be  any  other  man  like  you." 

"The  exigencies  of  life  must  develop  many  a  finer  and 
better. " 

"You  still  refuse  me?  You  yet  believe  I  do  not  love 
you?" 

"Not  with  the  love  I  ask,  my  girl.  But  if  I  did  not 
believe  it  was  germinating  in  your  heart,  and  that  it  would 
come  pouring  over  me  in  a  torrent  some  glad  day,  I 


A  VERTICAL  SPINE 


493 


doubt  if  I  could  allow  you  to  go,  Ruth!  I  am  like  any 
other  man  in  selfishness  and  in  the  passions  of  the  body. " 

"Selfishness!     You  haven't  an  idea  what  it  means," 

said   the  Girl.     "And  what  you   call  love there   I 

haven't.  But  I  know  how  to  appreciate  you,  and  you 
may  be  positively  sure  that  it  will  be  only  a  few  days 
until  I  will  come  back  to  you." 

"But  I  don't  want  you  until  you  can  bring  the  love 
I  crave.  I  am  sending  you  to  remain  until  that  time, 
Ruth." 

"But  it  may  be  months,  Man!" 

"Then  stay  months." 

"But  it  may  be " 

"It  may  be  never!  Then  remain  forever.  That  will 
be  proof  positive  that  your  happiness  does  not  lie  in 
my  hands." 

"Why  should  I  not  consider  you  as  you  do  me?" 

"Because  I  love  you,  and  you  do  not  love  me." 

"You  are  cruel  to  yourself  and  to  me.  You  talk  about 
the  pain  in  the  world.  What  about  the  pain  in  my  heart 
right  now?  And  if  I  know  you  in  the  least,  one  degree 
more  would  make  you  cry  aloud  for  mercy.  Oh  David, 
are  we  of  no  consideration  at  all?" 

The  muscles  of  the  Harvester's  face  twisted  an  instant. 

"This  is  where  we  lop  off  the  small  branches  to  grow 
perfect  fruit  later.  This  is  where  we  do  evil  that  good 
may  result.  This  is  where  we  suffer  to-night  in  order 
we  may  appreciate  fully  the  joy  of  love's  dawning.  If  I 
am  causing  you  pain,  forgive  me,  dear  heart.     I  would 


494  THE  HARVESTER 

give  my  life  to  prevent  it,  but  I  am  powerless.  It  is 
right!  We  cannot  avoid  doing  it,  if  we  ever  would 
be  happy." 

He  picked  up  the  Girl,  and  held  her  crushed  in  his 
arms  a  long  time.  Then  he  set  her  inside  her  door  and 
said,  "Lay  out  what  you  want  to  take  and  I  will  help 
you  pack,  so  that  you  can  get  some  sleep.  We  must 
be  ready  early  in  the  morning." 

When  the  clothing  to  be  worn  was  selected,  the  new 
trunk  packed,  and  all  arrangements  made,  the  Girl  sat  in 
his  arms  before  the  fire  as  he  had  held  her  when  she  was 
ill,  and  then  he  sent  her  to  bed  and  went  to  the  lake  shore 
to  fight  it  out  alone.  Only  God  and  the  stars  and  the 
faithful  Belshazzar  saw  the  agony  of  a  strong  man  in 
his  extremity. 

Near  dawn  he  heard  the  tinkle  of  the  bell  and  went 
to  receive  his  message  and  order  a  car  for  morning. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  merciful  darkness  of  night,  and 
paced  the  driveway  until  light  came  peeping  over  the 
tree  tops.  He  prepared  breakfast  and  an  hour  later 
put  the  Girl  on  the  train,  and  stood  watching  it  until 
the  last  rift  of  smoke  curled  above  the  spires  of  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XX 

The  Man  in  the  Background 

THEN  the  Harvester  returned  to  Medicine  Woods 
to  fight  his  battle  alone.  At  first  the  pain 
seemed  unendurable,  but  work  always  had 
been  his  panacea,  it  was  his  salvation  now.  He  went 
through  the  cabin,  folding  bedding  and  storing  it  in 
closets,  rolling  rugs  sprinkled  with  powdered  alum, 
packing  cushions,  and  taking  window  seats  from  the 
light. 

"Our  sleeping  room  and  the  kitchen  will  serve  for  us, 
Bel,"  he  said.  "We  will  put  all  these  other  things  away 
carefully,  so  they  will  be  as  good  as  new  when  the  Girl 
comes  home." 

The  evening  of  the  second  day  he  was  called  to  the 
telephone. 

"There  is  a  telegram  for  you,"  said  a  voice.  "A 
message  from  Philadelphia.  It  reads:  'Arrived  safely. 
Thank  you  for  making  me  come.  Dear  old  people.  Will 
write  soon.     With  love,  Ruth/ 

"Have  you  got  it?" 

"No,"  lied  the  Harvester,  grinning  rapturously.  "Re- 
peat it  again  slowly,  and  give  me  time  after  each  sentence 
to  write  it.     Now!     Go  on!" 

495 


496  THE  HARVESTER 

He  carried  the  message  to  the  back  steps  and  sat  read- 
ing it  again  and  again. 

"I  supposed  I'd  have  to  wait  at  least  four  days,"  he 
said  to  Ajax  as  the  bird  circled  before  him.  "This  is 
from  the  Girl,  old  man,  and  she  is  not  forgetting  us  to 
begin  with,  anyway.  She  is  there  all  safe,  she  sees  that 
they  need  her,  they  are  lovable  old  people,  she  is  going  to 
write  us  all  about  it  soon,  and  she  loves  us  all  she  knows 
how  to  love  any  one.  That  should  be  enough  to  keep  us 
sane  and  sensible  until  her  letter  comes.  There  is  no  use 
to  borrow  trouble,  so  we  will  say  everything  in  the  world 
is  right  with  us,  and  be  as  happy  as  we  can  on  that  until 
we  find  something  we  cannot  avoid  worrying  over.  In 
the  meantime,  we  will  have  faith  to  believe  that  we 
have  suffered  our  share,  and  the  end  will  be  happy  for 
all  of  us.  I  am  mighty  glad  the  Girl  has  a  home,  and 
the  right  kind  of  people  to  care  for  her.  Now,  when  she 
comes  back  to  me,  I  needn't  feel  that  she  was  forced, 
whether  she  wanted  to  or  not,  because  she  had  nowhere 
to  go.  This  will  let  me  out  with  a  clean  conscience, 
and  that  is  the  only  thing  on  earth  that  allows  a  man  to 
live  in  peace  with  himself.  Now  I'll  go  finish  every- 
thing else,  and  then  I'll  begin  the  ginseng  harvest." 

So  the  Harvester  hitched  Betsy  and  with  Belshazzar 
at  his  feet  he  drove  through  the  woods  to  the  sarsa- 
parilla  beds.  He  noticed  the  beautiful  lobed  leaves, 
at  which  the  rabbits  had  been  nibbling,  and  the  heads 
of  lustrous  purple-black  berries  as  he  began  digging  the 
roots  that  he  sold  for  stimulants. 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    497 

"I  might  have  needed  a  dose  of  you  now  myself," 
the  Harvester  addressed  a  heap  of  uprooted  plants, 
"if  the  electric  wires  hadn't  brought  me  a  better.  Great 
invention  that!  Never  before  realized  it  fully!  I 
thought  to-day  would  be  black  as  night,  but  that  mes- 
sage changes  the  complexion  of  affairs  mightily.  So 
I'll  dig  you  for  people  who  really  are  in  need  of  some- 
thing to  brace  them  up." 

After  the  sarsaparilla  was  on  the  trays,  he  attacked 
the  beds  of  Indian  hemp,  with  its  long  graceful  pods, 
and  took  his  usual  supply.  Then  he  worked  diligently 
on  the  warm  hillside  over  the  dandelion.  When  these 
were  finished  he  brought  half  a  dozen  young  men  from 
the  city  and  drilled  them  on  handling  ginseng.  He  was 
warm,  dirty,  and  tired  when  he  came  from  the  beds  the 
evening  of  the  fourth  day.  He  finished  his  work  at  the 
barn,  prepared  and  ate  his  supper,  slipped  into  clean 
clothing,  and  walked  to  the  country  road  where  it  crossed 
the  lane.  There  he  opened  his  mail  box.  The  letter  he 
expected  with  the  Philadelphia  postmark  was  inside.  He 
carried  it  to  the  bridge,  and  sitting  in  her  favourite  place, 
with  the  lake  breeze  threading  his  hair,  opened  his 
first  letter  from  the  Girl. 

"My  dear  Friend,  Lover,  Husband,"  it  began. 

The  Harvester  turned  the  sheets  face  down  across  his 
knee,  laid  his  hand  on  them,  and  stared  meditatively  at 
the  lake.  "'Friend,'"  he  commented.  "Well,  that's 
all  right!  I  am  her  friend,  as  well  as  I  know  how  to  be. 
'Lover.'     I  come  in  there,  full  force.     I  did  my  level 


498  THE  HARVESTER 

best  on  that  score,  though  I  can't  boast  myself  a  howling 
success;  a  man  can't  do  more  than  he  knows,  and  if  I 
had  been  familiar  with  all  the  wiles  of  expert,  professional 
love-makers,  they  wouldn't  have  availed  me  in  the  Girl's 
condition.  I  had  a  mighty  peculiar  case  to  handle  in 
her,  and  not  a  particle  of  training.  But  if  she  says 
'Lover,'  I  must  have  made  some  kind  of  a  showing  on  the 
job.  'Husband.'"  A  slow  flush  crept  up  the  brawny 
neck  and  tinged  the  bronzed  face.  "That's  a  good 
word,"  said  the  Harvester,  "and  it  must  mean  a  wonder- 
ful thing to  some  men.     'Who  bides  his  time.'     Well, 

I'm  'biding,'  and  if  my  time  ever  comes  to  be  my  Dream 
Girl's  husband,  I'll  wager  all  I'm  worth  on  one  thing.  I'll 
study  the  job  from  every  point  of  the  compass,  and 
I'll  see  what  showing  I  can  make  on  being  the  kind 
of  a  husband  that  a  woman  clings  to  and  loves  at 
eighty. " 

Taking  a  deep  breath  the  Harvester  lifted  the  letter, 
and  laying  one  hand  on  Belshazzar's  head,  he  proceeded 

"I  might  as  well  admit  in  the  beginning  that  I  cried 

most  of  the  way  here.  Some  of  it  was  because  I  was 
nervous  and  dreaded  the  people  I  would  meet,  and  more 
on  account  of  what  I  felt  toward  them,  but  most  of  it 
was  because  I  did  not  want  to  leave  you.  I  have  been 
spoiled  dreadfully!     You  have  taught  me  so  to  depend 

on  you and  for  once  I  feel  that  I  really  can  claim 

to  have  been  an  apt  pupil that  it  was  like  having 

the  heart  torn  out  of  me  to  come.  I  want  you  to  know 
this,  because  it  will  teach  you  that  I  have  a  little  bit 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    499 

of  appreciation  of  how  good  you  are  to  me,  and  to  all  the 
world  as  well.  I  am  glad  that  I  almost  cried  myself 
sick  over  leaving  you.  I  wish  now  I  just  had  stood  up 
in  the  car,  and  roared  like  a  burned  baby. 

"But  all  the  tears  I  shed  in  fear  of  grandfather  and 
grandmother  were  wasted.  They  are  a  couple  of  dear 
old  people,  and  it  would  have  been  a  crime  to  allow 
them  to  suffer  more  than  they  must  of  necessity.  It  all 
seems  so  different  when  they  talk;  and  when  I  see  the 
home,  luxuries,  and  friends  my  mother  had,  it  appears 
utterly  incomprehensible  that  she  dared  leave  them 
for  a  stranger.  Probably  the  reason  she  did  was  be- 
cause she  was  grandfather's  daughter.  He  is  gentle 
and  tender  some  of  the  time,  but  when  anything  irritates 
him,  and  something  does  every  few  minutes,  he  breaks 
loose,  and  such  another  explosion  you  never  heard. 
It  does  not  mean  a  thing,  and  it  seems  to  lower  his 
tension  enough  to  keep  him  from  bursting  with  palpi- 
tation of  the  heart  or  something,  but  it  is  a  strain  for 
others.  At  first  it  frightened  me  dreadfully.  Grand- 
mother is  so  tiny  and  frail,  so  white  in  her  big  bed,  and 
when  he  is  the  very  worst,  and  she  only  smiles  at  him, 
why  I  know  he  does  not  mean  it  at  all.  But,  David, 
I  hope  you  never  will  get  an  idea  that  this  would  be 
a  pleasant  way  for  you  to  act,  because  it  would  not, 
and  I  never  would  have  the  courage  to  offer  you  the 
love  I  have  come  to  find  if  you  slammed  a  cane  and 
yelled,  'demnation,'  at  me.  Grandmother  says  she 
does  not  mind  at  all,  but  I  wonder  if  she  did  not  acquire 


500  THE  HARVESTER 

the  habit  of  lying  in  bed  because  it  is  easier  to  endure  in 
a  prostrate  position. 

"The  house  is  so  big  I  get  lost,  and  I  do  not  know  yet 
which  are  servants  and  which  friends;  and  there  is  a 
steady  stream  of  seamstresses  and  milliners  making  things 
for  me.  Grandmother  and  father  both  think  I  will  be 
quite  passable  in  appearance  when  I  am  what  they  call 
'modishly  dressed.'  I  think  grandmother  will  forget 
herself  some  day  and  leave  her  bed  before  she  knows 
it,  in  her  eagerness  to  see  how  something  appears.  I 
could  not  begin  to  tell  you  about  all  the  lovely  things  to 
wear,  for  every  occasion  under  the  sun,  and  they  say 
these  are  only  temporary,  until  some  can  be  made  es- 
pecially for  me. 

"They  divide  the  time  in  sections,  and  there  is  an  hour 
to  drive,  I  am  to  have  a  horse  and  ride  later,  and  a  time 
to  shop,  so  long  to  visit  grandmother,  and  set  hours  to 
sleep,  dress,  to  be  fitted,  taken  to  see  things,  music  lessons, 
and  a  dancing  teacher.  I  think  a  longer  day  will  have 
to  be  provided. 

"I  do  not  care  anything  about  dancing.  I  know 
what  would  make  me  dance  nicely  enough  for  anything, 
but  I  am  going  to  try  the  music,  and  see  if  I  can  learn 
just  a  few  little  songs  and  some  old  melodies  for  even- 
ing, when  the  work  is  done,  the  fire  burns  low,  and  you 
are  resting  on  the  rug.  There  is  enough  room  for  a 
piano  between  your  door  and  the  south  wall  and  that 
corner  seems  vacant  anyway.  You  would  like  it,  David, 
I  know,  if  I  could  play  and  sing  just  enough  to  put  you 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    501 

to  sleep  nicely.  It  is  in  the  back  of  my  head  that  I  will 
try  to  do  every  single  thing,  just  as  they  want  me  to, 
and  that  will  make  them  happy,  but  never  forget  that 
the  instant  I  feel  in  my  soul  that  your  kiss  is  right  on 
my  lips,  I  am  coming  to  you  by  lightning  express;  and  I 
told  them  so  the  first  thing,  and  that  I  only  came  because 
you  made  me. 

"They  did  not  raise  an  objection,  but  I  am  not  so  dull 
that  I  cannot  see  they  are  trying  to  bind  me  to  them  from 
the  very  first  with  chains  too  strong  to  break.  We  had 
just  one  little  clash.  Grandfather  was  mightily  pleased 
over  what  you  told  Mr.  Kennedy  about  my  never  having 
been  your  wife,  and  that  I  was  really  free.  There 
seems  to  be  a  man,  the  son  of  his  partner,  whom  grand- 
father dearly  loves,  and  he  wants  me  to  be  friends  with 
his  friend.  One  can  see  at  once  what  he  is  planning,  be- 
cause he  said  he  was  going  to  introduce  me  as  Miss  Jame- 
son. I  told  him  that  would  be  creating  a  false  impres- 
sion, because  I  was  a  married  woman;  but  he  only  laughed 
at  me  and  went  straight  to  doing  it. 

"Of  course,  I  know  why,  but  he  is  so  terribly  set  I 
cannot  stop  him,  so  I  shall  have  to  tell  people  myself 
that  I  am  a  staid,  old  married  lady.  After  all,  I  suppose 
I  might  as  well  let  him  go,  if  it  pleases  him.  I  shall 
know  how  to  protect  myself  and  any  one  else,  from  any 
mistakes  concerning  me;  and  in  my  heart  I  know  what 
I  know,  and  what  I  cannot  make  you  believe,  but  I 
will  some  day. 

"I  suspect  you're  harvesting  the  ginseng  now.     The 


502  THE  HARVESTER 

roar  and  rush  of  the  city  seem  strange,  as  if  I  never  had 
heard  it  before,  and  I  feel  so  crowded.  I  scarcely  can 
sleep  at  night  for  the  clamour  of  the  cars,  cabs,  and 
throbbing  life.  Grandfather  will  not  hear  a  word, 
and  he  just  sputters  and  says  'demnation'  when  I  try  to 
tell  him  about  you;  but  grandmother  will  listen,  and  I 
talk  to  her  of  you  and  Medicine  Woods  by  the  hour. 
She  says  she  thinks  you  must  be  a  wonderfully  nice  per- 
son. I  haven't  dared  tell  her  yet  the  thing  that  will  win 
her.  She  is  so  little  and  frail,  and  she  has  heart  trouble 
so  badly;  but  some  day  I  shall  tell  her  all  about  Chicago 
that  I  can,  and  then  of  Uncle  Henry,  and  then  about  you 
and  the  oak,  and  that  will  make  her  love  you  as  I  do. 
There  are  so  many  things  to  do;  they  have  sent  for  me 
three  times.  I  shall  tell  them  they  must  put  you  on  the 
schedule,  and  give  me  so  much  time  to  write  or  I  will 
upset  the  whole  programme. 

"I  think  you  will  like  to  know  that  Mr.  Kennedy  told 
grandfather  all  you  said  to  him  about  my  illness,  for  al- 
most as  soon  as  I  came  he  brought  a  very  wonderful 
man  to  my  room,  and  he  asked  many  questions  and 
I  told  him  all  about  it,  and  what  I  had  been  doing.  He 
made  out  a  list  of  things  to  eat  and  exercises.  I  am 
being  taken  care  of  just  as  you  did,  so  I  will  go  on  grow- 
ing well  and  strong.  The  trouble  is  they  are  too  good  to 
me.  I  would  just  love  to  shuffle  my  feet  in  dead  leaves, 
and  lie  on  the  grass  this  morning.  I  never  got  my  swim 
in  the  lake.  I  will  have  to  save  that  until  next  summer. 
He  also  told  grandfather  what  you  said  about  Uncle 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    503 

Henry,  and  I  think  he  was  pleased  that  you  tried  to 
find  him  as  soon  as  you  knew.     He  let  me  see  the  letter 

Uncle  Henry  wrote,   and  it  was  a  vile  thing just 

such  as  he  would  write.  It  asked  how  much  he  would  be 
willing  to  pay  for  information  concerning  his  heir.  I  told 
grandfather  all  about  it,  and  I  saw  the  answer  he  wrote. 
I  told  him  some  things  to  say,  and  one  of  them  was  that 
the  honesty  of  a  man  without  a  price  prevented  the  neces- 
sity of  anything  being  paid  to  find  me.  The  other  was 
that  you  located  my  people  yourself,  and  at  once  sent  me 
to  them  against  my  wishes.  I  was  determined  he  should 
know  that.  So  Uncle  Henry  missed  his  revenge  on  you. 
He  evidently  thought  he  not  only  would  hurt  you  by 
breaking  up  your  home  and  separating  us,  but  also  he 
would  get  a  reward  for  his  work.  He  wrote  some  un- 
true things  about  you,  and  I  wish  he  hadn't,  for  grand- 
father can  think  of  enough  himself.  But  I  will  soon 
change  that.  Please,  please  take  good  care  of  all  my 
things,  my  flowers  and  vines,  and  most  of  all  tell  Bel- 
shazzar  to  protect  you  with  his  life.  And  you  be  very 
good  to  my  dear,  dear  lover.  I  will  write  again  soon, 
Ruth." 

When  the  Harvester  had  studied  the  letter  until  he 
could  repeat  it  backward,  he  went  to  the  cabin  and  an- 
swered it.  Then  he  sent  subscriptions  for  two  of  Phila- 
delphia's big  dailies,  and  harvested  ginseng  from  dawn 
until  black  darkness.  Never  was  such  a  crop  grown  in 
America.  The  beds  had  been  made  in  the  original  home 
of  the  plant,  so  that  it  throve  under  perfectly  natural 


5o4  THE  HARVESTER 

conditions  in  the  forest,  but  here  and  there  branches  had 
been  thinned  above,  and  nature  helped  by  science  below. 
This  resulted  in  thick,  pulpy  roots  of  astonishing  size 
and  weight.  As  the  Harvester  lifted  them  he  bent  the 
tops  and  buried  part  of  the  seed  for  another  crop.  For 
weeks  he  worked  over  the  bed.  Then  the  last  load  went 
down  the  hill  to  the  dry-house  and  the  helpers  were  paid. 
Next  the  fall  work  was  finished.  Fuel  and  food  were 
stored  for  winter,  while  the  cold  crept  from  the  lake, 
swept  down  the  hill  and  surrounded  the  cabin. 

The  Harvester  finished  long  days  in  the  dry-house  and 
store-room,  and  after  supper  he  sat  by  the  fire  reading 
over  the  Girl's  letters,  carving  on  her  candlesticks,  or 
in  the  work  room,  bending  above  the  boards  he  was 
shaving  and  polishing  for  a  gift  he  had  planned  for  her 
Christmas.  The  Careys  had  him  in  their  home  for 
Thanksgiving.  He  told  them  all  about  sending  the  Girl 
away  himself,  read  them  some  of  her  letters,  and  they 
talked  with  perfect  confidence  of  how  soon  she  would 
come  home.  The  Harvester  tried  to  think  confidently, 
but  as  the  days  went  by  the  letters  became  fewer,  always 
with  the  excuse  that  there  was  no  time  to  write,  but 
with  loving  assurance  that  she  was  thinking  of  him  and 
would  do  better  soon. 

However  they  came  often  enough  that  he  had  some- 
thing new  to  tell  his  friends  so  that  they  did  not  suspect 
that  waiting  was  a  trial  to  him.  A  few  days  after  Thanks- 
giving the  gift  that  he  had  planned  was  finished.  It  was 
a  big,   burl-maple  box,   designed   after  the  hope  chests 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    505 

that  he  saw  advertised  in  magazines.  The  wood  was 
rare,  cut  in  heavy  slabs,  polished  inside  and  out,  dove- 
tailed corners  with  ornate  brass  bindings,  hinges  and  lock, 
and  hand-carved  feet.  On  the  inside  of  the  lid  cut  on  a 
brass  plate  was  the  inscription,  "Ruth  Langston,  Christ- 
mas of  Nineteen  Hundred  and  Ten.     David. " 

Then  he  began  packing  the  chest.  He  put  in  the 
finished  candlesticks  and  a  box  of  candleberry  dips  he 
had  made  of  delightfully  spiced  wax,  coloured  pale 
green.  He  ordered  the  doll  weeks  before  from  the  largest 
store  in  Onabasha,  and  the  dealer  brought  on  several 
that  he  might  make  a  selection.  He  chose  a  large  baby 
doll  almost  life  size,  and  sent  it  to  the  dress-making  de- 
partment to  be  completely  and  exquisitely  clothed.  Long 
before  the  day  he  was  picking  kernels  to  glaze  from  nuts, 
drying  corn  to  pop,  and  planning  candies  to  be  made  of 
maple  sugar.  When  he  figured  it  was  time  to  start  the 
box,  he  worked  carefully,  filling  spaces  with  chestnut 
and  hazel  burs,  and  finishing  the  tops  of  boxes  with 
gaudy  red  and  yellow  leaves  he  had  kept  in  their  original 
brightness  by  packing  them  in  sand.  He  put  in  scarlet 
berries  of  mountain  ash  and  long  twining  sprays  of  yellow 
and  red  bitter-sweet  berries,  for  her  room.  Then  he  care- 
fully covered  the  chest  with  cloth,  packed  it  in  an  out- 
side box,  and  sent  it  to  the  Girl  by  express.  As  he  came 
from  the  train  shed,  where  he  had  helped  with  loading, 
he  met  Henry  Jameson.  Instantly  the  long  arm  of  the 
Harvester  shot  out,  and  in  a  grip  that  could  not  be 
broken  he  caught  the  man  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and 


506  THE  HARVESTER 

proceeded  to  dangle  him.  As  he  did  so  he  roared  with 
iaughter. 

"Dear  Uncle  Henry!"  he  cried.  "How  did  you  feel 
when  you  got  your  letter  from  Philadelphia?  Wasn't  it  a 
crime  that  an  honest  man,  which  same  refers  to  me,  beat 
you?  Didn't  you  gnash  your  teeth  when  you  learned 
that  instead  of  separating  me  from  my  wife  I  had  found 
her  people  and  sent  her  to  them  myself?  Didn't  it  rend 
your  soul  to  miss  your  little  revenge  and  fail  to  get 
the  good,  fat  reward  you  confidently  expected?  Ho! 
Ho!  Thus  are  lofty  souls  downcast.  I  pity  you,  Henry 
Jameson,  but  not  so  much  that  I  won't  break  your 
back  if  you  meddle  in  my  affairs  again,  and  I  am  taking 
this  opportunity  to  tell  you  so.  Here  you  go  out  of  my 
life,  for  if  you  appear  in  it  once  more  I  will  finish  you  like 
a  copperhead.     Understand?" 

With  a  last  shake  the  Harvester  dropped  him,  and  went 
into  the  express  office,  where  several  men  had  watched 
the  proceedings. 

"Been  dipping  in  your  affairs,  has  he?"  asked  the 
expressman. 

"Trying  it,"  laughed  the  Harvester. 

"Well  he  is  just  moving  to  Idaho,  and  you  probably 
won't  be  bothered  with  him  any  more." 

"Good  news!"  said  the  Harvester.  He  felt  much  re- 
lieved as  he  went  back  to  Betsy  and  drove  to  Medicine 
Woods. 

The  Careys  had  invited  him,  but  he  chose  to  spend 
Christmas  alone.     He  had  finished  breakfast  when  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND     507 

telephone  bell  rang,  and  the  expressman  told  him  there 
was  a  package  for  him  from  Philadelphia.  The  Har- 
vester mounted  Betsy  and  rode  to  the  city  at  once. 
The  package  was  so  very  small  he  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket,  and  went  to  the  doctor's  to  say  Merry  Christ- 
mas! To  Mrs.  Carey  he  gave  a  pretty  lavender  silk 
dress,  and  to  the  doctor  a  new  watch  chain.  Then 
he  went  to  the  hospital,  where  he  left  with  Molly  a  set 
of  china  dishes  from  the  Girl,  and  a  fur-lined  great  coat, 
his  gift  to  Doctor  Harmon.  He  rode  home  and  stabled 
Betsy,  giving  her  an  extra  quart  of  oats,  and  going  into 
the  house  he  sat  by  the  kitchen  fire  and  opened  the 
package. 

In  a  nest  of  cotton  lay  a  tissue-wrapped  velvet  box,  and 
inside  that,  in  a  leather  pocket  case,  an  ivory  miniature  of 
the  Girl  by  an  artist  who  knew  how  to  reproduce  life.  It 
was  an  exquisite  picture,  and  a  face  of  wonderful  beauty. 
He  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time,  and  then  called  Bel- 
shazzar  and  carried  it  out  to  show  Ajax.  Then  he  put  it 
into  his  breast  pocket  squarely  over  his  heart,  but  he 
wore  the  case  shiny  the  first  day  taking  it  out.  Before 
noon  he  went  to  the  mail  box  and  found  a  long  letter  from 
the  Girl,  full  of  life,  health,  happiness,  and  with  steady 
assurances  of  love  for  him,  but  there  was  no  mention  made 
of  coming  home. 

She  seemed  engrossed  in  the  music  lessons,  riding, 
dancing,  pretty  clothing,  splendid  balls,  receptions,  and 
parties  of  all  kinds.  The  Harvester  answered  it  with 
his  heart  full  of  love  for  her,  and  then  waited.     It  was 


5o8  THE  HARVESTER 

a  long  week  before  the  reply  came,  and  then  it  was  short 
on  account  of  so  many  things  that  must  be  done,  but  she 
insisted  that  she  was  well,  happy,  and  having  a  fine  time. 
After  that  the  letters  became  less  frequent  and  shorter. 
At  times  there  would  be  stretches  of  almost  two  weeks 
with  not  a  line,  and  then  only  short  notes  to  explain  that 
she  was  too  busy  to  write. 

Through  the  dreary,  cold  days  of  January  and  Feb- 
ruary the  Harvester  invented  work  in  the  store-room,  in 
the  workshop,  at  the  candlesticks,  sat  long  over  great 
books,  and  spent  hours  in  the  little  laboratory  preparing 
and  compounding  drugs.  In  the  evenings  he  carved  and 
read.  First  of  all  he  scanned  the  society  columns  of 
the  papers  he  was  taking,  and  almost  every  day  he  found 
the  name  of  Miss  Ruth  Jameson,  often  a  paragraph  de- 
scribing her  dress  and  her  beauty  of  face  and  charm  of 
manner;  and  constantly  the  name  of  Mr.  Herbert  Ken- 
nedy appeared  as  her  escort.  At  first  the  Harvester 
ignored  this,  and  said  to  himself  that  he  was  glad  she  could 
have  enjoyable  times  and  congenial  friends,  and  he  was. 
But  as  the  letters  became  fewer,  paper  paragraphs  more 
frequent,  and  approaching  spring  worked  its  old  insanity 
in  the  blood,  gradually  an  ache  crept  into  his  heart  again, 
and  there  were  days  when  he  could  not  work  it  out. 

Every  letter  she  wrote  he  answered  just  as  warmly  as  he 
felt  that  he  dared,  but  when  they  were  so  long  coming 
and  his  heart  was  overflowing,  he  picked  up  a  pen  one 
night  and  wrote  what  he  felt.  He  told  her  all  about  the 
ice-bound  lake,  the  lonely  crows  in  the  big  woods,  the 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    509 

sap  suckers'  cry,  and  the  gay  cardinals'  whistle.  He  told 
her  about  the  cocoons  dangling  on  bushes  or  rocking  on 
twigs  that  he  was  cutting  for  her.  He  warned  her  that 
spring  was  coming,  and  soon  she  would  begin  to  miss 
wonders  for  her  pencil.  Then  he  told  her  about  the 
silent  cabin,  the  empty  rooms,  and  a  lonely  man.  He 
begged  her  not  to  forget  the  kiss  she  had  gone  to  find 
for  him.  He  poured  out  his  heart  unrestrainedly,  and 
then  folded  the  letter,  sealed  and  addressed  it  to  her,  in 
care  of  the  fire  fairies,  and  pitched  it  into  the  ashes  of 
the  living-room  fire  place.  But  expression  made  him 
feel  better. 

There  was  another  longer  wait  for  the  next  letter,  but 
he  had  written  her  so  many  in  the  meantime  that  a 
little  heap  of  them  had  accumulated  as  he  passed  through 
the  living-room  on  his  way  to  bed.  He  had  supposed  she 
would  be  gone  until  after  Christmas  when  she  left,  but 
he  never  had  thought  of  harvesting  sassafras  and  opening 
the  sugar  camp  alone.  In  those  days  his  face  appeared 
weary,  and  white  hairs  came  again  on  his  temples.  Carey 
met  him  on  the  street  and  told  him  that  he  was  going 
to  the  National  Convention  of  Surgeons  at  New  York 
in  March,  and  wanted  him  to  go  along  and  present  his 
new  medicine  for  consideration. 

"All  right,"  said  the  Harvester  instantly,  "I  will 
go." 

He  went  and  interviewed  Mrs.  Carey,  and  then  visited 
the  doctor's  tailor,  and  a  shoe  store,  and  bought  every- 
thing required  to  put  him  in  condition  for  travelling  in 


510  THE  HARVESTER 

good  style,  and  for  the  banquet  he  would  be  asked  to 
attend.  Then  he  got  Mrs.  Carey  to  coach  him  on  spoons 
and  forks,  and  declared  he  was  ready.  When  the  doctor 
saw  that  the  Harvester  really  would  go,  he  sat  down  and 
wrote  the  president  of  the  association,  telling  him  in 
brief  outline  of  Medicine  Woods  and  the  man  who  had 
achieved  a  wonderful  work  there,  and  of  the  compound- 
ing of  the  new  remedy. 

As  he  expected,  return  mail  brought  an  invitation  for 
the  Harvester  to  address  the  association  and  describe  his 
work  and  methods  and  present  his  medicine.  The 
doctor  went  out  in  the  car  over  sloppy  roads  with  that 
letter,  and  located  the  Harvester  in  the  sugar  camp. 
He  explained  the  situation  and  to  his  surprise  found  his 
man  intensely  interested.  He  asked  many  questions 
as  to  the  length  of  time,  and  amount  of  detail  required 
in  a  proper  paper,  and  the  doctor  told  him. 

"But  if  you  want  to  make  a  clean  sweep,  David,"  he 
said,  "  write  your  paper  simply,  and  practise  until  it 
comes  easy  before  you  speak. " 

That  night  the  Harvester  left  work  long  enough  to 
get  a  notebook,  and  by  the  light  of  the  camp  fire,  and  in 
company  with  the  owls  and  coons,  he  wrote  his  outline. 
One  division  described  his  geographical  location,  another 
traced  his  ancestry  and  education  in  wood  lore.  One 
was  a  tribute  to  the  mother  who  moulded  his  character 
and  ground  into  him  stability  for  his  work.  The  re- 
mainder described  his  methods  in  growing  drugs,  drying 
and  packing  them,  and  the  end  was  a  presentation  for 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    511 

their  examination  of  the  remedy  that  had  given  life 
where  a  great  surgeon  had  conceded  death.  Then  he 
began  amplification. 

When  the  sugar  making  was  over  the  Harvester  com- 
menced his  regular  spring  work,  but  his  mind  was  so 
busy  over  his  paper  that  he  did  not  have  much  time  to 
realize  just  how  badly  his  heart  was  beginning  to  ache. 
Neither  did  he  consign  so  many  letters  to  the  fire  fairies, 
for  now  he  was  writing  of  the  best  way  to  dry  hydrastis 
and  preserve  ginseng  seed.  The  day  before  time  to  start 
he  drove  to  Onabasha  to  try  on  his  clothing  and  have  Mrs. 
Carey  see  if  he  had  been  right  in  his  selections. 

While  he  was  gone,  Granny  Moreland,  wearing  a  clean 
calico  dress  and  carrying  a  juicy  apple  pie,  came  to  the 
stretch  of  flooded  marsh  land,  and  finding  the  path  under 
water,  followed  the  road  and  crossing  a  field  reached 
the  levee  and  came  to  the  bridge  of  Singing  Water  where 
it  entered  the  lake.  She  rested  a  few  minutes  there, 
and  then  went  to  the  cabin  shining  between  bare  branches. 
She  opened  the  front  door,  entered,  and  stood  staring 
around  her. 

"Why  things  is  all  tore  up  here,"  she  said.  "Now 
ain't  that  sensible  of  David  to  put  everything  away  and 
save  it  nice  and  careful  until  his  woman  gets  back.  Seems 
as  if  she's  good  and  plenty  long  coming;  seems  as  if  her 
folks  needs  her  mighty  bad,  or  she's  having  a  better  time 
than  the  boy  is  or  something." 

She  set  the  pie  on  the  table,  went  through  the  cabin 
and  up  the  hill  a  little  distance,  calling  the  Harvester. 


Si2  THE  HARVESTER 

When  she  passed  the  barn  she  missed  Betsy  and  the 
wagon,  and  then  she  knew  he  was  in  town.  She  returned 
to  the  living-room  and  sat  looking  at  the  pie  as  she 
rested. 

"I'd  best  put  you  on  the  kitchen  table,"  she  mused. 
"  Likely  he  will  see  you  there  first  and  eat  you  while  you 
are  fresh.  I'd  hate  mortal  bad  for  him  to  overlook  you, 
and  let  you  get  stale,  after  all  the  care  I've  took  with 
your  crust,  and  all  the  sugar,  cinnamon,  and  butter  that's 
under  your  lid.  You're  a  mighty  nice  pie,  and  you  ort 
to  be  et  hot.  Now  why  under  the  sun  is  all  them  clean 
letters  pitched  in  the  fireplace?" 

Granny  knelt  and  selecting  one,  she  blew  off  the  ashes, 
wiped  it  with  her  apron  and  read:  "To  Ruth,  in  care  of 
the  fire  fairies." 

"What  the  Sam  Hill  is  the  idiot  writin'  his  woman  like 
that  for?"  cried  Granny,  bristling  instantly.  "And 
why  is  he  puttin'  pages  and  pages  of  good  reading  like 
this  must  have  in  it  in  care  of  the  fire  fairies?  Too 
much  alone,  I  guess!  He's  going  wrong  in  his  head. 
Nobody  at  themselves  would  do  sech  a  fool  trick  as  this. 
I  believe  I  had  better  do  something.  Of  course  I  had! 
These  is  writ  to  Ruth;  she  ort  to  have  them.  Wish't 
I  knowed  how  she  gets  her  mail,  I'd  send  her  some. 
Mebby  three!  I'd  send  a  fat  and  a  lean,  and  a  middlin' 
so's  that  she'd  have  a  sample  of  all  the  kinds  they  is. 
It's  no  way  to  write  letters  and  pitch  them  in  the  ashes. 
It  means  the  poor  boy  is  honin'  to  say  things  he  dassent 
and  so  he's  writin'   them  out  and   never  sendin'  them 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    513 

at  all.  What's  the  little  huzzy  gone  so  long  for,  any- 
way?    I'll  fix  her!" 

Granny  selected  three  letters,  blew  away  the  ashes, 
and  tucked  the  envelopes  inside  her  dress. 

"If  I  only  knowed  how  to  get  at  her,"  she  muttered. 
She  stared  at  the  pie.  "I  guess  you  got  to  go  back," 
she  said,  "and  be  et  by  me.  Like  as  not  I'll  stall  myself, 
for  I  got  one  a-ready.  But  if  David  has  got  these  fool 
things  counted  and  misses  any,  and  then  finds  that  pie 
here,  he'll  s'picion  me.  Yes,  I  got  to  take  you  back,  and 
hurry  my  stumps  at  that." 

Granny  arose  with  the  pie,  cast  a  lingering  and  cov- 
etous glance  at  the  fireplace,  stooped  and  took  another 
letter,  and  then  started  down  the  drive.  Just  as  she 
reached  the  bridge  she  looked  ahead  and  saw  the  Harves- 
ter coming  up  the  levee.  Instantly  she  shot  the  pie 
over  the  railing  and  with  a  groan  watched  it  strike  the 
water  and  disappear. 

"Lord  of  love!"  she  gasped,  sinking  to  the  seat,  "that 
was  one  of  grandmother's  wilier  plates  that  I  promised 
Ruth.  'Tain't  likely  I'll  ever  see  hide  ner  hair  of  it  again. 
But  they  wa'ant  no  place  to  put  it,  and  I  dassent  let 
him  know  I'd  been  up  to  the  cabin.  Mebby  I  can  fetch 
a  boy  some  day  and  hire  him  to  dive  for  it.  How 
long  can  a  plate  be  in  water  and  not  get  spiled  anyway? 
Now  what'll  I  do?  My  head's  all  in  a  whirl!  I'll 
bet  my  bosom  is  a  sticking  out  with  his  letters  'til  he'll 
notice  and  take  them  from  me. " 

She  gripped  her  hands  across  her  chest  and  sat  staring 


5  H  THE  HARVESTER 

at  the  Harvester  as  he  stopped  on  the  bridge,  and  seeing 
her  attitude  and  distressed  face,  he  sprang  from  the  wagon. 

"Why  Granny,  are  you  sick?"     he  cried  anxiously. 

"Yes!"  gasped  Granny  Moreland.  "Yes,  David,  I 
am!  I'm  a  miserable  woman.  I  never  was  in  sech  a 
shape  in  all  my  days." 

"Let  me  help  you  to  the  cabin,  and  I'll  see  what  I 
can  do  for  you, "  offered  the  Harvester. 

"No.  This  is  jest  out  of  your  reach,"  said  the  old 
lady.     "I  want -I  want  to  see  Doctor  Carey  bad." 

"Are  you  strong  enough  to  ride  in  or  shall  I  bring  him?" 

"I  can  go!  I  can  go  as  well  as  not,  David,  if  you'll 
take  me." 

"Let  me  run  Betsy  to  the  barn  and  get  the  Girl's 
phaeton.  The  wagon  is  too  rough  for  you.  Are  the 
pains  in  your  chest  dreadful?" 

"I  don't  know  how  to  describe  them,"  said  Granny 
with  perfect  truth. 

The  Harvester  leaped  into  the  wagon  and  caught  up 
the  lines.  As  he  disappeared  around  the  curve  of  the 
driveway  Granny  snatched  the  letters  from  her  dress 
front  and  thrust  them  deep  into  one  of  her  stockings. 

"Now,  drat  you ! "  she  cried.  "  Stick  out  all  you  please. 
Nobody  will  see  you  there." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Harvester  helped  her  into  the 
carriage  and  drove  rapidly  toward  the  city. 

"You  needn't  strain  your  critter,"  said  Granny.  "It's 
not  so  bad  as  that,  David." 

"Is  your  chest  any  better?" 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    SiS 

"A  sight  better,"  said  Granny.  "Shakin'  up  a  little 
'pears  to  do  me  good. " 

"You  never  should  have  tried  to  walk.  Suppose  I 
hadn't  been  here.  And  you  came  the  long  way,  too! 
I'll  have  a  telephone  run  to  your  house  so  you  can  call 
me  after  this." 

Granny  sat  very  straight  suddenly. 

"My!  wouldn't  that  get  away  with  some  of  my  foxy 
neighbours,"  she  said.  "Me  to  have  a  'phone  like  they 
do,  an'  be  conversin'  at  all  hours  of  the  day  with  my 
son's  folks  and  everybody.  I'd  be  tickled  to  pieces, 
David." 

"Then  I'll  never  dare  do  it,"  said  the  Harvester,  "be- 
cause I  can't  keep  house  without  you." 

"Where's  your  own  woman?"  promptly  inquired 
Granny. 

"She  can't  leave  her  people.  Her  grandmother  is 
sick." 

"Grandmother  your  foot!"  cried  the  old  woman. 
"I've  been  hearing  that  song  and  dance  from  the  neigh- 
bours, but  you  got  to  fool  younger  people  than  me  on 
it,  David.  When  did  any  grandmother  ever  part  a 
pair  of  youngsters  jest  married,  for  months  at  a  clip? 
I'd  like  to  cast  my  eyes  on  that  grandmother.  She's 
a  new  breed !  I  was  as  good  a  mother  as  'twas  in  my  skin 
to  be,  and  I'd  like  to  see  a  child  of  mine  do  it  for  me;  and 
as  for  my  grandchildren,  it  hustles  some  of  them  to 
re-cog-nize  me  passing  on  the  big  road,  'specially  if 
it's  Peter's  girl  with  a  town  beau. " 


516  THE  HARVESTER 

The  Harvester  laughed.  The  old  lady  leaned  toward 
him  with  a  mist  in  her  eyes  and  a  quaver  in  her  voice, 
and  asked  softly,  "Got  ary  friend  that  could  help  you, 
David?" 

The  man  looked  straight  ahead  in  silence. 

"Bamfoozle  all  the  rest  of  them  as  much  as  you  please, 
lad,  but  I  stand  to  you  in  the  place  of  your  ma,  and  so 
I  ast  you  plainly got  ary  friend  that  could  help?" 

"I  can  think  of  no  way  in  which  any  one  possibly 
could  help  me,  dear,"  said  the  Harvester  gently.  "It 
is  a  matter  I  can't  explain,  but  I  know  of  nothing  that 
any  one  could  do." 

"You  mean  you're  tight-mouthed!  You  could  tell 
me  just  like  you  would  your  ma,  if  she  was  up  and  comin'; 
but  you  can't  quite  put  me  in  her  place,  and  spit  it  out 
plain.  Now  mebby  I  can  help  you!  Is  it  her  fault  or 
yourn?" 

"Mine!     Mine  entirely!" 

"Hum!  What  a  fool  question!  I  might  a  knowed  it! 
I  never  saw  a  lovinger,  sweeter  girl  in  these  parts.  I 
jest  worship  the  ground  she  treads  on;  and  you,  lad, 
you  hain't  had  a  heart  in  your  body  sence  first  you  saw 
her  face.  If  I  had  the  stren'th,  I'd  haul  you  out  of  this 
keeridge  and  I'd  hammer  you  meller,  David  Langston. 
What  in  the  name  of  sense  have  you  gone  and  done  to 
the  purty,  lovin'  child?" 

The  Harvester's  face  flushed,  but  a  line  around  his 
mouth  whitened. 

"  Loosen  up ! "  commanded  Granny.    "  I  got  some  rights 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    517 

in  this  case  that  mebby  you  don't  remember.  You  asked 
me  to  help  you  get  ready  for  her,  and  I  done  what  you 
wanted.  You  invited  me  to  visit  her,  and  I  jest  loved 
her  sweet,  purty  ways.  You  wanted  me  to  shet  up  my 
house  and  come  over  for  weeks  to  help  take  keer  of  her, 
and  I  done  it  gladly,  for  her  pain  and  your  suflerin'  cut 
me  as  if  'twas  my  livin'  flesh  and  blood;  so  you  can't 
shet  me  out  now.  I'm  in  with  you  and  her  to  the  end. 
What  a  blame  fool  thing  have  you  gone  and  done  to  drive 
away  for  months  a  girl  that  fair  worshipped  you?" 

"That's  exactly  the  trouble,  Granny,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "She  didn't!  She  merely  respected  and  was 
grateful  to  me,  and  she  loved  me  as  a  friend;  but  I  never 
was  any  nearer  her  husband  than  I  am  yours." 

"I've  always  knowed  they  was  a  screw  loose  some- 
where," commented  Granny.  "And  so  you've  sent 
her  off  to  her  worldly  folks  in  a  big,  wicked  city  to  get 
weaned  away  from  you  complete?" 

"I  sent  her  to  let  her  see  if  absence  would  teach  her 
anything.  I  had  months  with  her  here,  and  I  lay  awake 
at  nights  thinking  up  new  plans  to  win  her.  I  worked 
for  her  love  as  I  never  worked  for  bread,  but  I  couldn't 
make  it.  So  I  let  her  go  to  see  if  separation  would  teach 
her  anything." 

"Mercy  me!  Why  you  crazy  critter!  The  child  did 
love  you!  She  loved  you  'nough  an'  plenty!  She  loved 
you  faithful  and  true!  You  was  jest  the  light  of  her  eyes. 
I  don't  see  how  a  girl  could  think  more  of  a  man.  What 
in  the  name  of  sense  are  you  expecting  months  of  sep- 


518  THE  HARVESTER 

aration  to  teach  her,  but  to  forget  you,  and  mebby  turn 
her  to  some  one  else?" 

"I  hoped  it  would  teach  her  what  I  call  love,  means," 
explained  the  Harvester. 

"Why  you  dratted  popinjay!  If  ever  in  all  my  born 
days  I  wanted  to  take  a  man  and  jest  lit'rally  mop  up 
the  airth  with  him,  it's  right  here  and  now.  'Absence 
teach  her  what  you  call  love.'     Idiot!     That's  your  job!" 

"But,  Granny,  I  couldn't!" 

"Wouldn't,  you  mean,  no  doubt!  I  hain't  no  manner 
of  a  notion  in  my  head  but  that  child,  depending  on  you, 
and  grateful  as  she  was,  and  tender  and  loving,  and  all 

sech  as  that I  hain't  a  doubt  but  she  come  to  you 

plain  and  told  you  she  loved  you  with  all  her  heart. 
What  more  could  you  ast?" 

"That  she  understand  what  love  means  before  I  can 
accept  what  she  offers. " 

"You  puddin'  head!  You  blunderbuss!"  cried  Granny. 
"Understand  what  you  mean  by  love.  If  you're  going 
to  bar  a  woman  from  being  a  wife  'til  she  knows  what 
you  mean  by  love,  you'll  stop  about  nine  tenths  of  the 
weddings  in  the  world,  and  t'other  tenth  will  be  women 
that  no  decent-minded  man  would  jine  with." 

"Granny,  are  you  sure?" 

"Well  livin'  through  it,  and  up'ard  of  seventy  years 
with  other  women,  ort  to  teach  me  something.  The 
Girl  offered  you  all  any  man  needs  to  ast  or  git.  Her 
foundations  was  laid  in  faith  and  trust.  Her  affections 
was   caught  by  every  loving,   tender,   thoughtful  thing 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    519 

you  did  for  her;  and  everybody  knows  you  did  a-plenty, 
David.  I  never  see  sech  a  master  hand  at  courtin'  as 
you  be.  You  had  her  lovin'  you  all  any  good  woman 
knows  how  to  love  a  man.  All  you  needed  to  a-done  was 
to  take  her  in  your  arms,  and  make  her  your  wife,  and 
she'd  'a'  waked  up  to  what  you  meant  by  love. " 
"But  suppose  she  never  awakened?" 
"Aw,  bosh!  S'pose  water  won't  wet!  S'pose  fire 
won't  burn!  S'pose  the  sun  won't  shine!  That's  the 
law  of  nature,  man!  If  you  think  I  hain't  got  no  sense 
at  all  I  jest  dare  you  to  ask  Doctor  Carey.  'Twouldn't 
take  him  long  to  comb  the  kinks  out  of  you. " 

"I  don't  think  you  have  left  any,  Granny,"  said  the 
Harvester.     "I  see  what  you  mean,  and  in  all  probability 
you  are  right,  but  I  can't  send  for  the  Girl. " 
"Name  o'  goodness  why?" 

"Because  I  sent  her  away  against  her  will,  and  now  she 
is  remaining  so  long  that  there  is  every  probability  she 
prefers  the  life  she  is  living  and  the  friends  she  has  made 
there,  to  Medicine  Woods  and  to  me.  The  only  thing 
I  can  do  now  is  to  await  her  decision. " 

"Oh,  good  Lord!"  groaned  Granny.  "You  make  me 
sick  enough  to  kill.  Touch  up  your  nag  and  hustle  me  to 
Doc.  You  can't  get  me  there  quick  enough  to  suit  me. " 
At  the  hospital  she  faced  Doctor  Carey.  "I  think 
likely  some  of  my  innards  has  got  to  be  cut  out  and 
mended, "  she  said.  "  I'll  jest  take  a  few  minutes  of  your 
time  to  examination  me,  and  see  what  you  can  do. " 
In  the  private  office  she  held  the  letters  toward  the 


S2o  THE  HARVESTER 

doctor.  "They  hain't  no  manner  of  sickness  ailin'  me, 
Doc.  The  boy  out  there  is  in  deep  water,  and  I  knowed 
how  much  you  thought  of  him,  and  I  hoped  you'd  give 
me  a  lift.  I  went  over  to  his  place  this  mornin'  to  take 
him  a  pie,  and  I  found  his  settin'  room  fireplace  heapin' 
with  letters  he'd  writ  to  Ruth  about  things  his  heart  was 
jest  so  bustin'  full  of  it  eased  him  to  write  them  down, 
and  then  he  hadn't  the  horse  sense  and  trust  in  her 
jedgment  to  send  them  on  to  her.  I  picked  two  fats, 
a  lean,  and  a  middlin'  for  samples,  and  I  thought  I'd 
send  them  some  way,  and  I  struck  for  home  with  them 
an'  he  ketched  me  plumb  on  the  bridge.  I  had  to  throw 
my  pie  overboard,  wilier  plate  and  all,  and  as  God  is  my 
witness,  I  was  so  flustered  the  boy  had  good  reason  to 
think  I  was  sick  a-plenty;  and  soon  as  he  noticed  it, 
I  thought  of  you  spang  off,  and  I  knowed  you'd  know  her 
whereabouts,  and  I  made  him  fetch  me  to  you.  On  the 
way  I  jest  dragged  it  from  him  that  he'd  sent  her  away 
his  fool  self,  because  she  didn't  sense  what  he  meant  by 
love,  and  she  wa'ant  beholden  to  him  same  degree  and 
manner  he  was  to  her.  Great  day,  Doc!  Did  you  ever 
hear  a  piece  of  foolishness  to  come  up  with  that?  I 
told  him  to  ast  you!  I  told  him  you'd  tell  him  that  no 
clean,  sweet-minded  girl  ever  had  known  nor  ever  would 
know  what  love  means  to  a  man  'til  he  marries  her  and 
teaches  her.     Ain't  it  so,  Doc?" 

"It  certainly  is." 

"Then  will  you  grind  it  into  him,  clean  to  the  marrer, 
and  will  you  send  these  letters  on  to  Ruthie?" 


on: 

a 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    521 

"Most  certainly  I  will,"  said  the  doctor  emphatically. 

Granny  opened  the  door  and  walked  out 

"I'm  so  relieved,  David,"  she  said.  "He  thinks  they 
won't  be  no  manner  o'  need  to  knife  me.  Likely  he  can 
fix  up  a  few  pills  and  send  them  out  by  mail  so's  that  I'll 
be  as  good  as  new  again.  Now  we  must  get  right  out 
of  here  and  not  take  valuable  time.  What  do  I  owe 
you,  Doc?" 

"Not  a  cent,"  said  Doctor  Carey.     "Thank  you  very 

much    for    coming    to    me.     You'll    soon    be    all    right 

again." 

"I  was  some  worried.     Much  obliged  I  am  sure.     Come 
I" 

One  minute, "  said  the  doctor.  "  David,  I  am  making 
up  a  list  of  friends  to  whom  I  am  going  to  send  pro- 
grammes of  the  medical  meeting,  and  I  thought  your 
wife  might  like  to  see  you  among  the  speakers,  and 
your  subject.     What  is  her  address?" 

A  slow  red  flushed  the  Harvester's  cheeks.  He  opened 
his  lips  and  hesitated.  At  last  he  said,  "I  think  perhaps 
her  people  prefer  that  she  receive  mail  under  her 
maiden  name  while  with  them.  Miss  Ruth  Jameson,  care 
of  Alexander  Herron,  5770  Chestnut  Street,  Philadel- 
phia, will  reach  her. " 

The  doctor  wrote  the  address,  as  if  it  were  the  most 
usual  thing  in  the  world,  and  asked  the  Harvester  if 
he  was  ready  to  make  the  trip  east. 

"I  think  we  had  best  start  to-night,"  he  said.  "We 
want  a  day  to  grow  accustomed  to  our  clothes  and  new 


522  THE  HARVESTER 

surroundings  before  we  run  up  squarely  against  serious 
business." 

"I  will  be  ready,"  promised  the  Harvester. 

He  took  Granny  home,  set  his  house  in  order,  installed 
the  man  he  was  leaving  in  charge,  touched  a  match  to 
the  heap  in  the  fireplace,  and  donning  the  new  travelling 
suit,  he  went  to  Doctor  Carey's. 

Mrs.  Carey  added  a  few  touches,  warned  him  to  re- 
member about  the  forks  and  spoons,  and  not  to  forget 
to  shave  often,  and  saw  them  off.  At  the  station  Carey 
said  to  him,  "You  know,  David,  we  can  change  at  Wayne 
and  go  through  Buffalo,  or  we  can  take  the  Pittsburg 
and  go  and  come  through  Philadelphia." 

"I  am  contemplating  a  trip  to  Philadelphia,"  said  the 
Harvester,  "but  I  believe  I  will  not  be  ready  for,  say  a 
month  yet.  I  have  a  theory  and  it  dies  hard.  If  it 
does  not  work  out  the  coming  month,  I  will  go,  perhaps, 
but  not  now.  Let  us  see  how  many  kinds  of  a  fool  I 
make  of  myself  in  New  York  before  I  attempt  the 
Quakers." 

Almost  to  the  city,  the  doctor  smiled  at  the  Har- 
vester. 

"David,  where  did  you  get  your  infernal  assurance?" 
he  asked. 

"In  the  woods,"  answered  the  Harvester  placidly. 
"In  doing  clean  work.  With  my  fingers  in  the  muck, 
end  life  literally  teeming  and  boiling  in  sound  and  action, 
around,  above,  and  beneath  me,  a  right  estimate  of  my 
place   and   province   in   life   comes   naturally      In   daily 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    523 

handling  stores  on  which  humanity  depends,  I  go  even 
deeper  than  you  surgeons  and  physicians.  You  are 
powerless  unless  I  reinforce  your  work  with  drugs  on 
which  you  can  rely.  I  do  clean,  honest  work.  I  know 
its  proper  place  and  value  to  the  world.  That  is  why  I 
called  what  I  have  to  say,  'The  Man  in  the  Background.' 
There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  shiver  and  shrink  at 
meeting  and  explaining  my  work  to  my  fellows.  Every 
man  has  his  vocation,  and  some  of  you  in  the  limelight 
would  cut  a  sorry  figure  if  the  man  in  the  background 
should  fail  you  at  the  critical  moment.  Don't  worry 
about  me,  Doc.  I  am  all  serene.  You  won't  find  I 
possess  either  nerves  or  fear.  'Be  sure  you  are  right,  and 
then  go  ahead,'  is  my  law. " 

"Well  I'll  be  confounded!"  said  the  doctor. 

In  a  large  hall,  peopled  with  thousands  of  medical  men, 
the  name  of  the  Harvester  was  called  the  following  day 
and  his  subject  was  announced.  He  arose  in  his  place 
and  began  to  talk. 

"Take  the  platform,"  came  in  a  roar  from  a  hundred 
throats. 

The  Harvester  hesitated. 

"You  must,  David,"  whispered  Carey. 

The  Harvester  made  his  way  forward  and  was  guided 
through  a  side  door,  and  a  second  later  calmly  walked 
down  the  big  stage  to  the  front,  and  stood  at  ease  looking 
over  his  audience,  as  if  to  gauge  its  size  and  the  pitch 
to  which  he  should  raise  his  voice.  His  lean  frame  loomed 
every  inch  of  his  six  feet,  his  broad  shoulders  were  square, 


524  THE  HARVESTER 

his  clean  shaven  face  alert  and  afire.  He  wore  a  spring 
suit  of  light  gray  of  good  quality  and  cut,  and  he  was 
perfect  as  to  details. 

"This  scarcely  seems  compatible  with  my  subject,"  he 
remarked  casually.  "I  certainly  appear  very  much  in 
the  foreground  just  at  present,  but  perhaps  that  is  quite 
as  well.  It  may  be  time  that  I  assert  myself.  I  doubt  if 
there  is  a  man  among  you  who  has  not  handled  my  prod- 
ucts more  or  less;  you  may  enjoy  learning  where  and  how 
they  are  prepared,  and  understanding  the  manner  in 
which  my  work  merges  with  yours.  I  think  perhaps 
the  first  thing  is  to  paint  you  as  good  a  word  picture  as 
I  can  of  my  geographical  location." 

Then  the  Harvester  named  latitude  and  longitude 
and  degrees  of  temperature.  He  described  the  lake, 
the  marsh,  the  wooded  hill,  the  swale,  and  open  sunny 
fields.  He  spoke  of  water,  soil,  shade,  and  geographical 
conditions.  "Here  I  was  born, "  he  said,  "on  land  owned 
by  my  father  and  grandfather  before  me,  and  previous 
to  them,  by  the  Indians.  My  male  ancestors,  so  far  as  I 
can  trace  them,  were  men  of  the  woods,  hunters,  trappers, 
herb  gatherers.  My  mother  was  from  the  country,  edu- 
cated for  a  teacher.  She  had  the  most  inexorable  will 
power  of  any  woman  I  ever  have  known.  From  my  father 
I  inherited  my  love  for  muck  on  my  boots,  resin  in  my 
nostrils,  the  long  trail,  the  camp  fire,  forest  sounds  and 
silences  in  my  soul.  From  my  mother  I  learned  to 
read  good  books,  to  study  subjects  that  puzzled  me, 
to  tell  the  truth,  to  keep  my  soul  and  body  clean,  and 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    525 

to  pursue  with  courage  the  thing  to  which  I  set  my 
hand. 

"There  was  not  money  enough  to  educate  me  as  she 
would;  together  we  learned  to  find  it  in  the  forest.  In 
early  days  we  sold  ferns  and  wild  flowers  to  city  people, 
harvested  the  sap  of  the  maples  in  spring,  and  the  nut 
crop  of  the  fall.  Later,  as  we  wanted  more,  we  trapped 
for  skins,  and  collected  herbs  for  the  drug  stores.  This 
opened  to  me  a  field  I  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  enter.  I 
knew  woodcraft  instinctively,  I  had  the  location  of  every 
herb,  root,  bark,  and  seed  that  will  endure  my  climate; 
I  had  the  determination  to  stick  to  my  job,  the  right 
books  to  assist  me,  and  my  mother's  invincible  will 
power  to  uphold  me  where  I  wavered. 

"As  I  look  into  your  faces,  men,  I  am  struck  with  the 
astounding  thought  that  some  woman  bore  the  cold 
sweat  and  pain  of  labour  to  give  life  to  each  of  you. 
I  hope  few  of  you  prolonged  that  agony  as  I  did.  It 
was  in  the  heart  of  my  mother  to  make  me  physically 
clean,  and  to  that  end  she  sent  me  daily  into  the  lake, 
so  long  as  it  was  not  ice  covered,  and  put  me  at  exer- 
cises intended  to  bring  full  strength  to  every  sinew  and 
fibre  of  my  body.  It  was  in  her  heart  to  make  me  morally 
clean,  so  she  took  me  to  nature  and  drilled  me  in  its 
forces  and  its  methods  of  reproducing  life  according 
to  the  law.  Her  work  was  good  to  a  point  that  all 
men  will  recognize.  From  there  on,  for  a  few  years, 
she  held  me,  not  because  I  was  man  enough  to  stand,  but 
because  she  was  woman  enough  to  support  me.     Without 


526  THE  HARVESTER 

her  no  doubt  I  would  have  broken  the  oath  I  took;  with 
her  I  won  the  victory  and  reached  years  of  manhood 
and  self-control  as  she  would  have  had  me.  The  struggle 
wore  her  out  at  half  a  lifetime,  but  as  a  tribute  to  her 
memory  I  cannot  face  a  body  of  men  having  your  op- 
portunities without  telling  you  that  what  was  possible 
to  her  and  to  me  is  possible  to  all  mothers  and  men. 
If  she  is  above  and  hears  me  perhaps  it  will  recompense 
some  of  her  shortened  years  if  she  knows  I  am  pleading 
with  you,  as  men  having  the  greatest  influence  of  any 
living,  to  tell  and  to  teach  the  young  that  a  clean  life 
is  possible  to  them.  The  next  time  any  of  you  are 
called  upon  to  address  a  body  of  men  tell  them  to  learn 
for  themselves  and  to  teach  their  sons,  and  to  hold  them 
at  the  critical  hour,  even  by  sweat  and  blood,  to  a  clean 
life;  for  in  this  way  only  can  feeble-minded  homes,  alms- 
houses, and  the  scarlet  woman  be  abolished.  In  this 
way  only  can  men  arise  to  full  physical  and  mental  force, 
and  become  the  fathers  of  a  race  to  whom  the  struggle 
for  clean  manhood  will  not  be  the  battle  it  is  with  us. 

"By  the  distorted  faces,  by  the  misshapen  bodies, 
by  marks  of  degeneracy,  recognizable  to  your  practised 
eyes  everywhere  on  the  streets,  by  the  agony  of  the 
mother  who  bore  you,  and  later  wept  over  you,  I  conjure 
you  men  to  live  up  to  your  high  and  holy  privilege,  and 
tell  all  men  that  they  can  be  clean,  if  they  will.  This 
in  memory  of  the  mother  who  shortened  her  days  to  make 
me  a  moral  man.  And  if  any  among  you  is  the  craven 
to  plead   immorality  as   a   safeguard   to  health,   I   ask, 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    527 

what  about  the  health  of  the  women  you  sacrifice  to 
shield  your  precious  bodies,  and  I  offer  my  own  as  the 
best  possible  refutation  of  that  cowardly  lie.  I  never 
have  been  ill  a  moment  in  all  my  life,  and  strength  never 
has  failed  me  for  work  to  which  I  set  my  hand. 

"The  rapidly  decreasing  supply  of  drugs  and  the 
adulterated  importations  early  taught  me  that  the 
day  was  coming  when  it  would  be  an  absolute  necessity 
to  raise  our  home  supplies.  So,  while  yet  in  my  teens, 
I  began  collecting  from  the  fields  and  woods  for  miles 
around  such  medicinal  stuff  as  grew  in  my  father's 
fields,  marsh,  and  woods,  and  planting  more  wherever  I 
found  anything  growing  naturally  in  its  prime.  I  merely 
enlarged  nature's  beds  and  preserved  their  natural  con- 
dition. As  the  plants  spread  and  the  harvest  increased, 
I  built  a  dry-house  on  scientific  principles,  a  large  store- 
room, and  later  a  laboratory  in  which  I  have  been  learn- 
ing to  prepare  some  of  my  crude  material  for  the  market, 
combining  ideas  of  my  own  in  remedies,  and  at  last  pro- 
ducing one  your  president  just  has  indicated  that  I  come 
to  submit  to  you  as  a  final  resort  in  certain  conditions. 

"My  operations  now  have  spread  to  close  six  hundred 
acres  of  almost  solid  medicinal  growth,  including  a 
little  lake,  around  the  shores  of  which  flourish  a  quadruple 
setting  of  water-loving  herbs." 

Occasionally  he  shifted  his  position  or  easily  walked 
across  the  platform  and  faced  his  audience  from  a  different 
direction.  His  voice  was  strong,  deep,  and  rang  clearly 
and  earnestly.     His  audience  sat  on  the  front  edge  of 


528  THE  HARVESTER 

their  chairs,  and  listened  to  something  new,  with  mouths 
half  agape.  A  few  times  Carey  turned  from  the  speaker 
to  face  the  audience.  He  agonized  in  his  heart  that  it 
was  a  closed  session,  and  that  his  wife  was  not  there  to 
hear,  and  that  the  Girl  was  missing  it. 

By  the  bent  backs  and  flying  fingers  of  the  reporters 
at  their  table  in  front  he  could  see  that  to-morrow  the 
world  would  read  the  Harvester's  speech;  and  if  it  were 
true  that  the  little  mother  had  shortened  her  days  to 
produce  him,  she  had  done  earth  a  service  for  which  many 
generations  would  call  her  blessed.  For  the  doctor  could 
look  ahead,  and  he  knew  that  this  man  would  not  escape. 
The  call  for  him  and  his  unimpeachable  truth  would  come 
from  everywhere,  and  his  utterances  would  carry  as  far 
as  newspapers  and  magazines  were  circulated.  The 
good  he  would  do  would  be  past  estimation. 

The  Harvester  continued.  He  was  describing  the  most 
delicate  and  difficult  of  herbs  to  secure.  He  was  telling 
how  they  could  be  raised,  prepared,  kept,  and  com- 
pounded. He  was  discussing  diseases  that  did  not  readily 
yield  to  treatment,  pointing  out  what  drugs  were  cus- 
tomarily employed  and  offering,  if  any  of  them  had  such 
cases,  and  would  send  to  him,  to  forward  samples  of 
unadulterated  stuff  sufficient  for  a  test  comparison  with 
what  they  were  using.  He  was  walking  serenely  and 
surely  into  the  heart  of  every  man  before  him. 

Just  at  the  point  where  it  was  the  psychological  time 
to  close,  he  stopped  and  stood  a  long  instant  facing  them, 
and  then  he  asked  softly,  "Did  any  man  among  you  ever 


THE  MAN  IN  THE  BACKGROUND    529 

see  the  woman  to  whom  he  had  given  a  strong  man's 
first  passion  of  love,  slowly  dying  before  him?" 

One  breathless  instant  he  waited  and  then  continued, 
"Gentlemen,  I  recently  saw  this  in  my  own  case.  For 
days  it  was  coming,  so  at  night  I  shut  myself  in  my 
laboratory,  and  from  the  very  essence  of  the  purest  of 
my  self-compounded  drugs  I  distilled  a  stimulant  into 
which  I  put  a  touch  of  heart  remedy,  a  brace  for  weaken- 
ing nerves,  a  vitalization  of  sluggish  blood.  As  I  worked, 
I  thought  in  that  thought  which  embodied  the  essence 
of  prayer,  and  when  my  day  and  my  hour  came,  and  a 
man  who  has  been  the  president  of  your  honourable 
body,  and  is  known  to  all  of  you,  said  it  was  death,  I 
took  this  combination  that  I  now  present  to  you,  and 
with  the  help  of  the  Almighty  and  a  woman  above  the 
price  of  rubies,  I  kept  breath  in  the  girl  I  love,  and  to-day 
she  is  at  full  tide  of  womanhood.  As  a  thank  offering, 
the  formula  is  yours.  Test  it  as  you  will.  Use  it  if  you 
find  it  good.     Gentlemen,  I  thank  you!" 

Carey  sank  in  his  chair  and  watched  the  Harvester 
cross  the  stage.  As  he  disappeared  the  tumult  began, 
and  it  lasted  until  the  president  arose  and  brought  him 
back  to  make  another  bow,  and  then  they  rioted  until 
they  wore  themselves  out.  In  an  immaculate  dress 
suit  the  Harvester  sat  that  night  on  the  right  of  the  gray- 
haired  president  and  responded  to  the  toast,  "The  Har- 
vester of  the  Woods."  Then  the  reporters  carried 
him  away  to  be  photographed,  and  to  show  him  the  gay 
sights  of  New  York. 


53o  THE  HARVESTER 

In  the  train  the  next  day,  steadily  speeding  west,  he 
said  to  Doctor  Carey:  "I  feel  as  the  old  woman  of  Mother 
Goose  who  said,  'Lawk-a-mercy  on  us,  can  this  be  really 
I?'" 

"You  just  bet  it  is!"  cried  the  doctor.  "And  you 
have  cut  out  work  for  yourself  in  good  shape.  " 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  this  is  a  beginning.  You  will  be  called 
upon  to  speak  again  and  again. " 

"The  point  is,  do  you  honestly  think  I  helped  any?" 

"You  did  inestimable  good.  It  only  can  help  men  to 
hear  plain  truth  that  is  personal  experience.  As  for  that 
dope  of  yours,  it  will  come  closer  raising  the  dead  than 
anything  I  ever  saw.  Next  case  I  see  slipping,  after 
I've  done  my  best,  I'm  going  to  try  it  out  for  myself." 

"All  right!  'Phone  me  and  I'll  bring  some  fresh  and 
help  you." 

At  Buffalo  the  doctor  left  the  car  and  bought  a  paper. 
As  he  had  expected  the  portrait  and  speech  of  the  Har- 
vester were  featured.  The  reporters  had  been  gracious. 
They  had  done  all  that  was  just  to  a  great  event, 
and  allowed  themselves  some  latitude.  He  immediately 
mailed  the  paper  to  the  Girl,  and  at  Cleveland  bought 
another  for  himself.  When  he  showed  it  to  the  Har- 
vester, as  he  glanced  at  it  he  observed,  "Do  I  appear 
like  that?"  Then  he  went  on  talking  with  a  man  he 
had  met  who  interested  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
The  Coming  of  the  Bluebird 

THE  Harvester  stopped  at  the  mail  box  on  his  way 
home  and  among  the  mass  of  matter  it  contained 
was  something  from  the  Girl.  It  was  a  scrap 
as  long  as  his  least  finger  and  three  times  as  wide,  and 
by  the  postmark  it  had  lain  four  days  in  the  box.  On 
opening  it,  he  found  only  her  card  with  a  line  written 
across  it,  but  the  man  went  up  the  hill  and  into  the 
cabin  as  if  a  cyclone  were  driving  him,  for  he  read,  "Has 
your  bluebird  come?" 

He  threw  his  travelling  bag  on  the  floor,  ran  to  the  tele- 
phone, and  called  the  station.  "Take  this  message,"  he 
said.  "Mrs.  David  Langston,  care  of  Alexander  Herron, 
5770  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia.  Found  note  after 
four  days'  absence.  Bluebird  long  past  due.  The  fairies 
have  told  it  that  my  fate  hereafter  lies  in  your  hands. 
As  always.     David." 

The  Harvester  turned  from  the  instrument  and  bent 
to  embrace  Belshazzar,  leaping  in  ecstasy  beside  him. 
"  Understand  that,  Bel  ? "  he  asked.     "  I  don't  know  but 

it  means  something.     Maybe  it  doesn't not  a  thing! 

And  again,  there  is  a  chance only  the  merest  possi- 
bility   that  it  does.     We'll  risk  it,  Bel,  and  to  begin 

531 


532  THE  HARVESTER 

on  I  have  nailed  it  as  hard  as  I  knew  how.     Next,  we  will 

clean  the  house until  it  shines,  and  then  we  will  fill 

the  cupboard,  and  if  anything  does  happen  we  won't  be 
caught  napping.  Yes,  boy,  we  will  take  the  chance! 
We  can't  be  any  worse  disappointed  than  we  have  been 
before  and  survived  it.     Come  along!" 

He  picked  up  the  bag  and  arranged  its  contents, 
carefully  brushed  and  folded  on  his  shelves  and  in  his 
closet.  Then  he  removed  the  travelling  suit,  donned 
the  old  brown  clothes  and  went  to  the  barn  to  see  that 
his  creatures  had  been  cared  for  properly.  Early  the 
next  morning  he  awoke  and  after  feeding  and  breakfasting 
instead  of  going  to  harvest  spice  brush  and  alder  he 
stretched  a  line  and  hung  the  bedding  from  room  after 
room  to  air  and  sun.  He  swept,  dusted,  and  washed 
windows,  made  beds,  and  lastly  polished  the  floors 
throughout  the  cabin.  He  set  everything  in  order, 
and  as  a  finishing  touch,  filled  vases,  pitchers,  and  bowls 
with  the  bloom  of  red  bud  and  silky  willow  catkins. 
He  searched  the  south  bank,  but  there  was  not  a  violet, 
even  in  the  most  exposed  places.  By  night  he  was  tired 
and  a  little  of  the  keen  edge  of  his  ardour  was  dulled. 
The  next  day  he  worked  scrubbing  the  porches,  straight- 
ening the  lawn  and  hedges,  even  sweeping  the  driveway 
to  the  bridge  clear  of  wind-whirled  leaves  and  straw. 
He  scouted  around  the  dry-house  and  laboratory,  and 
spent  several  extra  hours  on  the  barn  so  that  when 
evening  came  everything  was  in  perfect  order.  Then  he 
dressed,  ate  his  supper  and  drove  to  the  city. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    533 

He  stopped  at  the  mail  box,  but  there  was  nothing 
from  the  Girl.  The  Harvester  did  not  know  whether 
he  was  sorry  or  glad.  A  letter  might  have  said  the 
same  thing.  Nothing  meant  a  delightful  possibility,  and 
between  the  two  he  preferred  the  latter.  He  whistled 
and  sang  as  he  drove  to  Onabasha,  and  Belshazzar  looked 
at  him  with  mystified  eyes,  for  this  was  not  the  master 
he  had  known  of  late.  He  did  not  recognize  the  dress 
or  the  manner,  but  his  dog  heart  was  sympathetic  to 
the  man's  every  mood,  and  he  remembered  times  when  a 
drive  down  the  levee  always  had  been  like  this,  for  to- 
night the  Harvester's  tongue  was  loosened  and  he  talked 
in  the  old  way. 

"Just  four  words,  Bel  "  he  said.  "And,  as  I  re- 
marked before,  they  may  mean  the  most  wonderful  thing 
on  earth,  and  possibly  nothing  at  all.  But  it  is  in  the 
heart  of  man  to  hope,  Bel,  and  so  we  are  going  to  live 
royally  for  a  week  or  two,  just  on  hope,  old  boy.  If 
anything  should  happen,  we  are  ready,  rooms  shining, 
beds  fresh,  fireplaces  filled  and  waiting  a  match,  ice 
chest  cool,  and  when  we  get  back  it  will  be  stored.  Also 
a  secret,  Bel;  we  are  going  to  a  florist  and  a  fruit  store. 
While  we  are  at  it,  we  will  do  the  thing  right;  but  we  will 
stay  away  from  Doc,  until  we  are  sure  of  something. 
He  means  well,  but  we  don't  like  to  be  pitied,  do  we, 
Bel?  Our  friends  don't  manage  their  eyes  and  voices 
very  well  these  days.  Never  mind!  Our  time  will  come 
yet.  The  bluebird  will  not  fail  us,  but  never  before  has 
it  been  so  late." 


534  THE  HARVESTER 

On  his  return  he  filled  the  pantry  shelves  with  packages, 
stored  the  ice  chest,  and  set  a  basket  of  delicious  fruit  on 
the  dining  table.  Two  boxes  remained.  He  opened  the 
larger  one  and  took  from  it  an  arm  load  of  white  lilies 
that  he  carried  up  the  hill  and  divided  between  the  mounds 
under  the  oak.  Then  he  uncovered  his  head,  and  stand- 
ing at  the  foot  of  them  he  looked  among  the  boughs  of 
the  big  tree  and  listened  intently.  After  a  time  a  soft, 
warm  wind,  catkin-scented,  crept  from  the  lake,  and 
began  a  murmur  among  the  clusters  of  brown  leaves 
clinging  to  the  branches. 

"Mother,"  said  the  Harvester,  "were  you  with  me? 
Did  I  do  it  right?  Did  I  tell  them  what  you  would  have 
had  me  say  for  the  boys?  Are  you  glad  now  you  held 
me  to  the  narrow  way?  Do  you  want  me  to  go  before 
men  if  I  am  asked,  as  Doc  says  I  will  be,  and  tell  them 
that  the  only  way  to  abolish  pain  is  for  them  to  begin 
at  the  foundation  by  living  clean  lives?  I  don't  know 
if  I  did  any  good,  but  they  listened  to  me.  Anyway, 
I  did  the  best  I  knew.  But  that  isn't  strange;  you  ground 
it  into  me  to  do  that  every  day,  until  it  is  almost  an 
instinct.  Mother,  dear,  can  you  tell  me  about  the  blue- 
bird? Is  that  softest  little  rustle  of  all  your  voice? 
and  does  it  say  'hope  '?  I  think  so,  and  I  thank  you  for 
the  word. " 

The  man's  eyes  dropped  to  earth. 

"And  you  other  mother,"  he  said,  "have  you  any 
message  for  me?  Up  where  you  are  can  you  sweep  the 
world   with   understanding   eyes   and   tell   me   why   my 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    535 

bluebird  does  not  come?  Does  it  know  that  this  year 
your  child  and  not  chance  must  settle  my  fate?  Can 
you  look  across  space  and  see  if  she  is  even  thinking  of 
me?     But  I  know  that!     She  had  to  be  thinking  of  me 

when  she  wrote  that  line.     Rather  can  you  tell  me 

will  she  come?  Do  you  think  I  am  man  enough  to  be 
trusted  with  her  future,  if  she  does?  One  thing  I  promise 
you :  if  such  joy  ever  comes  to  me,  I  will  know  how  to  meet 
it  gently,  thankfully,  tenderly,  please  God.  Good  night, 
little  women.     I  hope  you  are  sleeping  well " 

He  turned  and  went  down  the  hill,  entered  the  cabin 
and  took  from  the  other  box  a  mass  of  Parma  violets. 
He  put  these  in  the  pink  bowl  and  placed  it  on  the  table 
beside  the  Girl's  bed.  He  stood  for  a  time,  and  then 
began  pulling  single  flowers  from  the  bowl  and  dropping 
them  over  the  pillow  and  snowy  spread. 

"God,  how  I  love  her!"  he  whispered  softly. 

At  last  he  went  out  and  closed  the  door.  He  was 
tired  and  soon  fell  asleep  with  the  night  breeze  stirring 
his  hair,  and  the  glamour  of  moonlight  flooding  the  lake 
touched  his  face.  Clearly  it  etched  the  strong,  manly 
features,  the  fine  brow  and  chin,  and  painted  in  unusual 
tenderness  the  soft  lines  around  the  mouth.  The  little 
owl  wavered  its  love  story,  a  few  frogs  were  piping,  and 
the  Harvester  lay  breathing  the  perfumed  spring  air 
deeply  and  evenly.  Near  midnight  Belshazzar  awakened 
him  by  arising  from  the  bedside  and  walking  to  the  door. 

"What  is  it,  Bel?"     inquired  the  Harvester. 

The  dog  whined   softly.     The  man  turned  his  head 


536  THE  HARVESTEP 

toward  the  lake.  A  ray  of  red  light  touched  the  opposite 
embankment  and  came  wavering  across  the  surface. 
The  Harvester  sat  up.  Two  big,  flaming  eyes  were 
creeping  up  the  levee. 

"That,"  said  the  Harvester,  "might  be  Doc  coming 
for  me  to  help  him  try  out  my  bottled  sunshine,  or  it 
might  be  my  bluebird.  " 

He  tossed  back  the  cover,  swung  his  feet  to  the  floor, 
setting  each  in  a  slipper  beside  the  bed,  and  arose,  dressing 
as  he  started  for  the  door.  As  he  opened  the  screen  and 
stepped  on  the  veranda  a  passenger  car  from  the  city 
stopped,  and  the  Harvester  went  down  the  walk  to 
meet  it.  His  heart  turned  over  when  he  saw  a  woman's 
hand  on  the  door. 

"Permit  me,"  he  said,  taking  the  handle  and  bringing 
it  back  with  a  sweep.  A  tall  form  arose,  bent  forward, 
and  descended  to  the  step.  The  full  flare  of  moonlight 
fell  on  the  glowing  face  of  the  Girl. 

"Harvester,  is  it  you?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  gasped  the  man. 

Two  hands  came  fluttering  out,  and  he  just  had  pres- 
ence of  mind  to  step  in  range  so  that  they  rested  on  his 
shoulders 

"Has  the  bluebird  come?" 

"Not  yet!" 

"Then  I  am  not  too  late?" 

"Never  too  late  to  come  to  me,  Ruth." 

"I  am  welcome?" 

"I  have  no  words  to  tell  you  how  welcome." 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    537 

She  swayed  forward  and  the  Harvester  tried  to  reach 
her  lips,  but  they  brushed  his  cheek  and  touched  his  ear. 

"I  have  brought  one  more  kiss  I  want  to  try,"  she 
whispered. 

The  Harvester  crushed  her  in  his  arms  until  he  fright- 
ened himself  for  fear  he  had  hurt  her,  and  murmured 
an  ecstasy  of  indistinct  love  words  to  her.  Presently  her 
feet  touched  the  ground  and  she  drew  away  from  him. 

"Harvester,"  she  whispered,  "I  couldn't  wait  any 
longer;  indeed  I  could  not:  and  I  couldn't  leave  grand- 
father and  grandmother,  and  I  didn't  know  what  in  the 
world  to  do,  so  I  just  brought  them  along.  Are  they 
welcome?" 

"Aside  from  you,  I  would  rather  have  them  than 
any  people  on  earth,"  said  the  Harvester. 

There  were  two  sounds  in  the  car;  one  was  an  ap- 
proving murmur,  and  the  other  an  undeniable  snort. 
The  Harvester  felt  the  reassuring  pressure  of  the  Girl's 
hand. 

"Please,  Ruth,"  he  said,  "go  turn  on  the  light  so  that 
I  can  see  to  help  grandmother." 

A  foot  stamped  before  the  front  seat.  "Madam 
Herron,  if  you  please!"  cried  an  acrid  voice. 

"'Madam  Herron,'"  said  the  Harvester  gently,  as  he 
set  a  foot  on  the  step,  reached  in  and  bodily  picked  up  a 
little  old  lady  and  started  up  the  walk  with  her  in  his  arms 

"Careful  there,  sir!"  roared  a  voice  after  him. 

The  Harvester  could  feel  the  quake  of  the  laughing 
woman  and  he  smiled  broadly  as  he  entered  the  cabin, 


538  THE  HARVESTER 

and  placed  her  in  a  large  chair  before  the  fire.  Then 
he  wheeled  and  ran  back  to  the  car,  reaching  it  as  the  man 
was  making  an  effort  to  descend.  It  could  be  seen 
that  he  had  been  tall,  before  time  and  sorrow  had  bent 
him,  and  keen  eyes  gleamed  below  shaggy  white  brows 
from  under  his  hat  brim.  He  had  a  white  moustache,  and 
his  hair  was  snowy. 

"Allow  me,"  said  the  Harvester  reaching  a  hand. 
"If  you  touch  me  I  will  cane  you,"  said  Mr.  Alexander 
Herron. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  step  back.  The  cane, 
wheel,  and  a  long  coat  skirt  interfering,  the  old  man  fell 
headlong,  and  only  quick  hands  saved  him  a  severe  jolt 
and  bruises.  He  stood  glaring  in  the  moonlight  while 
his  hat  was  restored. 

"If  you  run  your  car  to  the  curve  you  can  back  toward 
the  south  and  turn  easily,"  said  the  Harvester  to  the 
driver.  As  the  automobile  passed  them  he  offered  his 
arm.  "May  I  show  you  to  the  fire?  These  spring  nights 
are  chilly." 

"'Chilly!'  Demnition  cold  is  what  they  are!  I'm 
frozen  to  the  bone!  This  will  be  the  end  of  us  both! 
Dragging  people  of  our  age  around  at  this  hour  of  night. 
Of  all  the  accursed  stubbornness!" 

"There  are  three  low  steps,"  said  the  Harvester,  "now 
a  straight  stretch  of  walk,  now  two  steps;  there  you  are 
on  the  level.  Here  is  an  easy  chair.  It  would  be  better 
to  leave  on  your  coat,  until  I  light  the  fire." 

He  knelt  and  scratched  a  match,  and  almost  instantly 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    539 

a  flame  sprang  from  the  heap  of  dry  kindling,  and  began 
to  wrap  around  the  big  logs. 

"How  pretty!"  exclaimed  a  soft  voice. 

"Kind  of  a  hunting  lodge  in  the  wilds,  is  it?"  growled 
a  rough  one.  "Marcella,  you  will  take  your  death 
here!" 

"I'm  sure  I  feel  no  exposure.  Really,  Alexander, 
if  I  had  passed  away  every  time  you  have  prophesied 
that  I  would  in  the  past  twenty  years  you'd  have  the 
largest  private  cemetery  in  existence.  If  you  would  not 
be  so  pessimistic  I  could  quite  enjoy  the  trip.  It's  so 
long  since  I've  ridden  in  the  cars." 

"Of  all  the  abandoned  places!  And  for  you  to  be 
here,  after  your  years  in  bed!" 

"But  I'm  not  nearly  so  tired  as  I  am  at  home,  Alex- 
ander, truly." 

"Let  me  help  you,  grandfather,"  offered  the  Girl. 

She  went  to  him  and  took  his  hat  and  stick. 

"Leave  me  my  cane,"  he  cried.  "  Any  instant  that 
beast  may  attack  some  of  us." 

The  Girl  laughed  merrily. 

"Why  grandfather!"  she  chided,  "Bel  is  the  finest 
dog  you  ever  knew,  he  is  my  best  friend  here.  By  the 
hour  he  has  protected  me,  and  he  is  gentle  as  a  kitten. 
He's  crazy  over  my  coming  home." 

She  knelt  on  the  floor,  put  her  arms  around  the  dog's 
neck,  and  the  delighted  brute  quivered  with  the  joy  of 
her  caress  and  the  sound  of  her  loved  voice. 

"Ruthie!"  cautioned  the  gentle  lady. 


54Q  THE  HARVESTER 

"Put  that  cur  out  of  doors,  where  animals  belong," 
roared  the  old  man,  lifting  his  stick. 

"  Careful !"  warned  the  grave  voice  of  the  Harvester. 

"I  thought  you  said  he  was  gentle  as  a  kitten!" 

"Grandfather,  I  said  that,"  cried  the  Girl 

"Well  wasn't  it  the  truth?" 

"You  can  see  how  he  loves  me.  Didn't  I  ever  tell 
you  that  Bel  made  the  first  friendly  overture  I  ever 
received  in  this  part  of  the  country?  He's  watched  me 
by  the  day,  even  while  I  slept." 

"Then  what's  all  this  infernal  fuss  about?" 

"Try  striking  him  if  you  want  to  find  out,"  explained 
the  Harvester  gently.  "You  see,  Belshazzar  and  I  are 
accustomed  to  living  here  alone  and  very  quietly.  He 
is  excited  over  the  Girl's  return,  because  she  is  his  friend, 
and  he  has  not  forgotten  her.  Then  this  is  the  first  time 
in  his  life  he  ever  heard  an  irritable  voice  from  a  visitor 
or  saw  a  cane,  and  it  angers  him.  He  is  perfectly  safe 
to  guard  a  baby,  if  he  is  gently  treated,  but  he  is  a  sure 
throat  hold  to  a  stranger  who  bespeaks  him  roughly  or 
attempts  to  strike.  He  would  be  of  no  use  as  a  guard 
to  valuable  property  while  I  sleep  if  he  were  otherwise. 
Bel,  come  here!     Lie  still." 

The  dog  sank  to  the  floor  beside  the  Harvester,  but  his 
sharp  eyes  followed  the  Girl,  and  the  hair  arose  on  his 
neck  at  every  rasping  note  of  the  old  man's  voice. 

"I  wouldn't  give  such  a  creature  house  room  for  a 
minute,"  insisted  the  guest. 

"Wait  until  you  see  him  work  and  become  acquainted 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    541 

with  him,  and  you  will  change  that  verdict,"  prophesied 
the  Harvester. 

"I  never  was  known  to  change  an  opinion.  Never, 
sir!     Never  I "  cried  the  testy  voice. 

"How  unfortunate!"  remarked  the  Harvester  suavely. 

"Explain  yourself!     Explain  yourself,  sir!" 

"There  never  has  been,  there  never  will  be,  a  man 
on  this  earth,"  said  the  Harvester,  "wholly  free  from 
mistakes.  Are  you  warm  now?"  He  turned  to  the 
little  lady,  cutting  off  a  reply  with  his  question. 

"Nice  and  warm  and  quite  sleepy,"  she  said. 

"What  may  I  bring  you  for  a  light  lunch  before  you 
go  to  bed?" 

"Oh,  could  I  have  a  bite  of  something?" 

"If  only  I  am  fortunate  enough  to  have  anything  you 
will  care  for.  What  about  a  bowl  of  hot  milk  and  a 
slice  of  toast?" 

"Why  I  think  that  would  be  just  the  thing!" 

"Excuse  me,"  said  the  Harvester  rising. 

He  went  to  the  kitchen  and  they  could  hear  him 
moving  around. 

"I  wish  the  big  brute  would  take  his  beast  along," 
growled  Mr.  Alexander  Herron. 

"Come,  Bel,"  ordered  the  Girl.  "Let's  go  to  the 
kitchen." 

The  dog  instantly  arose  and  followed  her. 

"What  can  I  do  to  help?"  she  asked  as  they  reached 
the  door. 

"Remain  where  you  won't  dazzle  my  eyes,"  said  the 


542  THE  HARVESTER 

Harvester,  "  until  I  help  the  gentle  lady  and  the  gentle 
man  to  bed." 

Presently  he  came  with  a  white  cloth,  two  spoons,  and 
a  plate  of  bread.  He  spread  the  cloth  on  the  table,  laid 
the  spoons  on  it,  and  opening  the  little  cupboard,  took 
out  a  long  toasting  fork,  and  sticking  it  into  a  slice  of 
bread,  he  held  it  over  the  coals.  When  it  grew  golden 
brown  he  lifted  the  table  beside  the  chair,  and  brought 
a  bowl  of  scalded  milk. 

"Marcella,  that  stuff  will  be  too  smoky  for  you! 
Your  stomach  will  rebel  at  it." 

" Grandfather,  there  will  not  be  a  suspicion  of  odour," 
said  the  Girl.     "I  have  had  it  that  way  often." 

"Then  no  wonder  you  came  from  this  place  looking 
like  a  picked  crane,  if  that  is  a  sample  of  what  you  were 
fed  on!" 

The  face  of  the  Harvester  grew  redder  than  the  heat 
of  the  fire  necessitated,  but  at  the  ringing  laugh  of  the 
Girl  he  set  his  teeth  and  went  on  toasting  bread.  Grand- 
mother crumbled  some  in  the  milk  and  picking  up  the 
spoon  tested  the  combination.  She  was  very  hungry, 
and  it  was  good.     She  began  eating  with  relish. 

"Alexander,  you  will  be  the  loser  if  you  don't  have 
some  of  this,"  she  said.     "It's  just  delicious!" 

"Maybe  smoked  spoon  victuals  are  proper  for  invalid 
women,"  he  retorted,  "but  they  are  mighty  thin  diet 
for  a  hardy  man." 

"What  about  a  couple  of  eggs  and  some  beef  extract?" 
suggested  the  cook. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    543 

"  Sounds  more  sensible  by  a  long  shot. " 

"Ruth,  you  make  this  toast,"  said  the  Harvester  and 
disappeared. 

Presently  he  placed  before  his  guest  a  couple  of  eggs 
poached  in  milk,  a  steaming  bowl  of  beef  juice,  and  a 
plate  of  toast.  For  one  instant  the  Harvester  thought 
this  was  going  into  the  fire,  the  next  a  slice  was  picked 
up  and  smelled  testily.  The  Girl  sat  on  her  grandfather's 
chair  arm,  and  breaking  a  morsel  of  toast  dipped  it  into 
the  broth  and  tasted  it. 

"Oh  but  that  is  good!"  she  cried.  "Why  haven't 
I  some  also?     Am  I  supposed  to  have  no  'tummy'?" 

"Your  turn  next,"  said  the  Harvester,  as  he  again  gave 
her  the  fork  and  went  to  the  kitchen. 

When  he  returned  and  served  the  Girl  he  found  her 
grandfather  eating  heartily. 

"Why  I  think  this  is  fun,"  said  the  gentle  lady.  "I 
haven't  had  such  a  fine  time  in  ages.  I  love  the  heat  of 
the  flame  on  my  body  and  things  taste  so  good.  I  could 
go  to  sleep  without  any  narcotic,  right  now." 

Close  her  knee  the  Harvester  knelt  on  the  hearth  with 
his  toasting  fork.  She  leaned  forward  and  ran  her  fingers 
through  his  hair. 

"You're  a  braw  laddie,"  she  said.  "Now  I  see  why 
Ruthie  would  come. " 

The  Harvester  took  the  frail  hand  and  kissed  it. 
"Thank  you!"  he  returned. 

"Mush!"  exploded  the  grizzled  man  in  the  rear. 

When  no  one  wanted  more  food  the  Harvester  stacked 


544  THE  HARVESTER 

and  carried  away  the  dishes,  swept  the  hearth,  and 
replaced  the  toaster. 

"Ruth  and  I  often  lunched  this  way  last  fall,"  he  said. 
"We  liked  it  for  a  change." 

"Alexander,  have  you  noticed?"  asked  the  little 
woman  as  she  lifted  wet  eyes  to  a  beautiful  portrait  of 
her  daughter  beside  the  chimney. 

"D'ye  think  I'm  blind?  Saw  it  as  I  entered  the  door. 
Poor  taste!  Very!  Brown  may  match  the  rug  and 
wood-work,  but  it's  a  wretched  colour  for  a  young  girl 
in  her  gay  time.  Should  be  pink  and  white  with  a  gold 
frame." 

"That  would  be  beautiful,"  agreed  the  Harvester. 
"We  must  have  one  that  way.  This  is  not  an  expen- 
sive picture.  It  is  only  an  enlargement  from  an  old 
photograph." 

"We  have  a  number  of  very  handsome  likenesses. 
Which  one  can  you  spare  Ruth,  Marcella?" 

"The  one  she  likes  best,"  said  the  lady  promptly. 

"And  the  other  is  your  mother,  no  doubt.  What  a 
girlish,  beautiful  face!" 

"Wonderfully  fine!"  growled  a  gruff  old  voice  tinc- 
tured with  tears,  and  the  Harvester  began  to  see  light. 

The  old  man  arose.  "Ruthie,  help  your  grandmother 
to  bed,"  he  said.  "And  you,  sir,  have  the  goodness  to 
walk  a  few  steps  with  me." 

The  Harvester  sprang  up  and  brought  Mr.  Herron  his 
coat  and  hat  and  held  the  door.  The  Girl  brushed  past 
hi  n. 


O 

IS 


c 


<u 


13 

as 
s-i 

<L> 

o 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    545 

"To  the  oak, "  she  whispered. 

They  went  into  the  night,  and  without  a  word  the 
Harvester  took  his  guest's  arm  and  guided  him  up  the 
hill.  When  they  reached  the  two  mounds  the  moon 
shining  between  the  branches  touched  the  lily  faces  with 
with  holy  whiteness. 

"She  sleeps  there,"  said  the  Harvester,  indicating  the 
place. 

Then  he  turned  and  went  down  the  path  a  little  dis- 
tance and  waited  until  he  feared  the  night  air  would 
chill  the  broken  old  man. 

"You  can  see  better  to-morrow,"  he  said  as  he  touched 
the  shaking  figure  and  assisted  it  to  arise. 

"Your  work?"  Mr.  Alexander  Herron  touched  the 
lilies  with  his  walking  stick. 

The  Harvester  assented. 

"Do  you  mind  if  I  carry  one  to  Marcella?" 

The  Harvester  trembled  as  he  stooped  to  select  the 
largest  and  whitest,  and  with  sudden  illumination,  he 
fully  understood.  He  helped  the  tottering  old  man  to 
the  cabin,  where  he  sat  silently  before  the  fireplace 
softly  touching  the  lily  face  with  his  lips. 

"I  have  put  grandmother  in  my  bed,  tucked  her  in 
warmly,  and  she  says  it  is  soft  and  fine,"  laughed  the 
Girl,  coming  to  them.  "Now  you  go  before  she  falls 
asleep,  and  I  hope  you  will  rest  well." 

She  bent  and  kissed  him. 

The  Harvester  held  the  door. 

"Can  I  be  of  any  service?"  he  inquired. 


546  THE  HARVESTER 

"No,  I'm  no  helpless  child." 

"Then  to  my  best  wishes  for  sound  sleep  the  remainder 

of  the  night,  I  will  add  this,"  said  the  Harvester 

"You  may  rest  in  peace  concerning  your  dear  girl.  I 
sympathize  with  your  anxiety.     Good  night!" 

Alexander  Herron  threw  out  his  hands  in  protest. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  admitting  that  you  are  a  gentle- 
man in  a  month  or  two,"  he  said,  "but  it's  a  demna- 
tion  humiliation  to  have  it  literally  wrung  from  me 
to-night!" 

He  banged  the  door  in  the  face  of  the  amazed  Har- 
vester, who  turned  to  the  Girl  as  she  leaned  against  the 
mantel.  He  stood  absorbing  the  glowing  picture  of 
beauty  and  health  that  she  made.  She  had  removed  her 
travelling  dress  and  shoes,  and  was  draped  in  a  fleecy 
white  wool  kimono  and  wearing  night  slippers.  Her  hair 
hung  in  two  big  braids  as  it  had  during  her  illness.  She 
was  his  sick  girl  again  in  costume,  but  radiant  health 
glowed  on  her  lovely  face.  The  Harvester  touched  a 
match  to  a  few  candles  and  turned  out  the  acetylene 
lights.     Then  he  stood  before  her. 

"Now,  bluebird,"  he  said  gently.  "Ruth,  you  always 
know  where  to  find  me,  if  you  will  look  at  your  feet. 
I  thought  I  loved  you  all  in  my  power  when  you  went, 
but  absence  has  taught  its  lessons.  One  is  that  I  can 
grow  to  love  you  more  every  day  I  live,  and  the  other 
that  I  probably  trifled  with  the  highest  gift  you  had  to 
offer,  when  I  sent  you  away.  I  may  have  been  right; 
Granny  and   Doc  think  I  was  wrong.     You   know  the 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    547 

answer.  You  said  there  was  another  kiss  for  me.  Ruth, 
is  it  the  same  or  a  different  one?" 

"It  is  different.     Quite,  quite  different!" 

"And  when?"  The  Harvester  stretched  out  longing 
arms.     The  Girl  stepped  back. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "I  had  it  when  I  started, 
but  I  lost  it  on  the  way. " 

The  Harvester  staggered  under  the  disappointment. 

"Ruth,  this  has  gone  far  enough  that  you  wouldn't 
play  with  me,  merely  for  the  sake  of  seeing  me  suffer, 
would  you?" 

"No!"  cried  the  Girl.  "No!  I  mean  it!  I  knew 
just  what  I  wanted  to  say  when  I  started;  but  we  had  to 
take  grandmother  out  of  bed.  She  wouldn't  allow  me  to 
leave  her,  and  I  wouldn't  stay  away  from  you  any 
longer.  She  fainted  when  we  put  her  on  the  car  and 
grandfather  went  wild.  He  almost  killed  the  porters, 
and  he  raved  at  me.  He  said  my  mother  had  ruined 
their  lives,  and  now  I  would  be  their  death.  I  got  so 
frightened  I  had  a  nervous  chill  and  I'm  so  afraid  she  will 
grow  worse 


"You  poor  child!"  shuddered  the  Harvester.  "I 
see!  I  understand!  What  you  need  is  quiet  and  a 
good  rest." 

He  placed  her  in  a  big  easy  chair  and  sitting  on  the 
hearth  rug  he  leaned  against  her  knee  and  said,  "Now 
tell  me,  unless  you  are  so  tired  that  you  should  go  to  bed. " 

"I  couldn't  possibly  sleep  until  I  have  told  you," 
said  the  Girl. 


548  THE  HARVESTER 

"If  you're  merciful,  cut  it  short!"  implored  the  Har- 
vester. 

"I  think  it  begins,"  she  said  slowly,  "when  I  went 
because  you  sent  me  and  I  didn't  want  to  go.  Of  course, 
as  soon  as  I  saw  grandfather  and  grandmother,  heard 
them  talk,  and  understood  what  their  lives  had  been,  and 
what  might  have  been,  why  there  was  only  one  thing  to 
do,  as  I  could  see  it,  and  that  was  to  compensate  their 
agony  the  best  I  could.  I  think  I  have,  David.  I  really 
think  I  have  made  them  almost  happy.  But  I  told  them 
all  any  one  could  tell  about  you  in  the  start,  and  from  the 
first  grandmother  would  have  been  on  your  side;  but  you 
see  how  grandfather  is,  and  he  was  absolutely  deter- 
mined that  I  should  live  with  them,  in  their  home,  all 
their  lives.  He  thought  the  best  way  to  accomplish 
that  would  be  to  separate  me  from  you  and  marry  me 
to  the  son  of  his  partner. 

"There  are  rooms  packed  with  the  lovely  things  they 
bought  me,  David,  and  everything  was  as  I  wrote  you. 
Some  of  the  people  who  came  were  wonderful,  so  gracious 
and  beautiful,  I  loved  almost  all  of  them.  They  took 
me  places  where  there  were  pictures,  plays,  and  lovely 
parties,  and  I  studied  hard  to  learn  some  music,  to  dance, 
ride  and  all  the  things  they  wanted  me  to  do,  and  to  read 
good  books,  and  to  learn  to  meet  people  with  graciousness 
to  equal  theirs,  and  all  of  it.  Every  day  I  grew  stronger 
and  met  more  people,  and  there  were  different  places 
to  go,  and  always,  when  anything  was  to  be  done,  up 
popped   Mr.    Herbert   Kennedy   and    said    and    did   ex- 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    549 

actly  the  right  thing,  and  he  could  be  extremely  nice, 
David. " 

"I  haven't  a  doubt !"  said  the  Harvester,  laying  hold 
of  her  kimono. 

"And  he  popped  up  so  much  that  at  last  I  saw  he  was 
either  pretending  or  else  he  really  was  growing  very  fond 
of  me,  so  one  day  when  we  were  alone  I  told  him  all 
about  you,  to  make  him  see  that  he  must  not.  He 
laughed  at  me,  and  said  exactly  what  you  did,  that  I 
didn't  love  you  at  all,  that  it  was  gratitude,  that  it  was 
the  affection  of  a  child.  He  talked  for  hours  about  how 
grandfather  and  grandmother  had  suffered,  how  it  was  my 
duty  to  live  with  them  and  give  you  up,  even  if  I  cared 
greatly  for  you;  but  he  said  what  I  felt  was  not  love  at  all. 
Then  he  tried  to  tell  me  what  he  thought  love  was,  and  I 
could  see  very  clearly  that  if  it  was  like  that,  I  didn't 
love  you,  but  I  came  a  whole  world  closer  it  than  lov- 
ing him,  and  I  told  him  so.  He  laughed  again  and 
said  I  was  mistaken,  and  that  he  was  going  to  teach 
me  what  real  love  was,  and  then  I  could  not  be  driven 
back  to  you.  After  that,  everybody  and  everything 
just  pushed  me  toward  him  with  both  hands,  except 
one  person.  She  was  a  young  married  woman  and 
I  met  her  at  the  very  first.  She  was  the  only  real  friend 
I  ever  had,  and  at  last,  the  latter  part  of  February,  when 
things  were  the  very  worst,  I  told  her.  I  told  her  every 
single  thing.  She  was  on  your  side.  She  said  you  were 
twice  the  man  Herbert  Kennedy  was,  and  as  soon  as  I 
found  I  could  talk  to  her  about  you,  I  began  going  there 


55o  THE  HARVESTER 

and  staying  as  long  as  I  could,  just  to  talk  and  to  play 
with  her  baby. 

"Her  husband  was  a  splendid  young  fellow,  and  I 
grew  very  fond  of  him.  I  knew  she  had  told  him,  because 
he  suddenly  began  talking  to  me  in  the  kindest  way,  and 
everything  he  said  seemed  to  be  what  I  most  wanted  to 
hear.  I  got  along  fairly  well  until  hints  of  spring  began 
to  come,  and  then  I  would  wonder  about  my  hedge,  and 
my  gold  garden,  and  if  the  ice  was  off  the  lake,  and 
about  my  boat  and  horse,  and  I  wanted  my  room,  and 
oh,  David,  most  of  all  I  wanted  you!  Just  you!  Not 
because  you  could  give  me  anything  to  compare  in 
richness  with  what  they  could,  not  because  this  home  was 
the  best  I'd  ever  known  except  theirs,  not  for  any  reason 
at  all  only  just  that  I  wanted  to  see  your  face,  hear  your 
voice,  and  have  you  pick  me  up  and  take  me  in  your  arms 
when  I  was  tired.  That  was  when  I  almost  quit  writing. 
I  couldn't  say  what  I  wanted  to,  and  I  wouldn't  write 
trivial  things,  so  I  went  on  day  after  day  just  groping." 

"And  you  killed  me  alive,"  said  the  Harvester. 

"I  was  afraid  of  that,  but  I  couldn't  write.  I  just 
couldn't!  It  was  ten  days  ago  that  I  thought  of  the 
bluebird's  coming  this  year  and  what  it  would  mean  to 
you,  and  that  killed  me,  Man!  It  just  hurt  my  heart 
until  it  ached,  to  know  that  you  were  out  here  alone; 
and  that  night  I  couldn't  sleep,  because  I  was  thinking 
of  you,  and  it  came  to  me  that  if  I  had  your  lips  then  I 
could  give  you  a  much,  much  better  kiss  than  the  last, 
and  when  it  was  light  I  wrote  that  line. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    551 

"Nearly  a  week  later  I  got  your  answer  early  in  the 
morning,  and  it  almost  drove  me  wild.  I  took  it  and  went 
for  the  day  with  May,  and  I  told  her.  She  took  me  up- 
stairs, and  we  talked  it  over,  and  before  I  left  she  made 
me  promise  that  I  would  write  you  and  explain  how  I 
felt,  and  ask  you  what  you  thought.  She  wanted  you 
to  come  there  and  see  if  you  couldn't  make  them  at  least 
respect  you.  I  know  I  was  crying,  and  she  was  bathing 
the  baby.  She  went  to  bring  something  she  had  for- 
gotten, and  she  gave  him  to  me  to  hold,  just  his  little 
naked  body.  He  stood  on  my  lap  and  mauled  my  face, 
and  pulled  my  hair,  and  hugged  me  with  his  stout  little 
arms  and  kissed  me  big,  soft,  wet  kisses,  and  something 
sprang  to  life  in  my  heart  that  never  before  had  been 
there.  I  just  cried  all  over  him  and  held  him  fast,  and 
I  couldn't  give  him  up  when  she  came  back.  I  saw  why 
I'd  wanted  a  big  doll  all  my  life,  right  then;  and  oh, 
dear!  the  doll  you  sent  was  beautiful,  but,  David,  did 
you  ever  hold  a  little,  living  child  in  your  arms  like  that?" 

"I  never  did,"  said  the  Harvester  huskily. 

He  looked  at  her  face  and  saw  the  tears  rolling,  but 
he  could  say  no  more,  so  he  leaned  his  head  against  her 
knee,  and  finding  one  of  her  hands  he  drew  it  to  his  lips. 

"It  is  wonderful,"  said  the  Girl  softly.  "It  awakens 
something  in  your  heart  that  makes  it  all  soft  and  tender, 
and  you  feel  an  awful  responsibility,  too.  Grandmother 
had  them  telephone  at  last,  and  May  helped  me  bathe 
my  face  and  fix  my  hat.  When  we  went  to  the  carriage 
Mr.  Kennedy  was  there  to  take  me  home.     We  went 


552  THE  HARVESTER 

past  grandmother's  florist  to  get  her  some  violets  — 
David,  she  is  sleeping  under  yours,  with  just  a  few  touch- 
ing her  lips.  Oh  it  was  lovely  of  you  to  get  them;  your 
fairies  must  have  told  you!  She  has  them  every  day, 
and  one  of  the  objections  she  made  to  coming  here  was 
that  she  couldn't  do  without  them  in  winter,  and  she 
found  some  on  her  pillow  the  very  first  thing.  David, 
you  are  wonderful!  And  grandfather  with  his  lily! 
I  know  where  he  found  that!  I  knew  instantly.  Ah, 
there  are  fairies  who  tell  you,  because  you  deserve  to 
know." 

The  Girl  bent  and  slipping  her  arm  around  his  neck 
hugged   him  tight  an   instant,   and   then   she  continued 

unsteadily:     "While  he  was  in  the  shop Harvester, 

this  is  like  your  wildest  dream,  but  it's  truest  truth a 

boy  came  down  the  walk  crying  papers,  and  as  I  live, 
he  called  your  name.  I  knew  it  had  to  be  you  because 
he  said,  "First  drug  farm  in  America!  Wonderful 
medicine  contributed  to  the  cause  of  science!  David 
Langston  honoured  by  National  Medical  Association!" 
I  just  stood  in  the  carriage  and  screamed,  'Boy!  Boy!' 
until  the  coachman  thought  I  had  lost  my  senses.  He 
whistled  and  got  me  the  paper.  I  was  shaking  so  I 
asked  him  how  to  find  anything  you  wanted  quickly, 
and  he  pointed  the  column  where  events  are  listed; 
and  when  I  found  the  third  page  there  was  your  face  so 
splendidly  reproduced,  and  you  seemed  so  fine  and  noble 
to  me  I  forgot  about  the  dress  suit  and  the  badge  in 
your  buttonhole,  or  to  wonder  when  or  how  or  why  it 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    553 

.ould  have  happened.  I  just  sat  there  shouting  in  my 
tsoul,  'David!  David!  Medicine  Man!  Harvester  Man!' 
again  and  again. 

"I  don't  know  what  I  said  to  Mr.  Kennedy  or  how  I 
got  to  my  room.  I  scanned  it  by  the  column,  at  last 
I  got  to  paragraphs,  and  finally  I  read  all  the  sentences. 
David,  I  kissed  that  newspaper  face  a  hundred  times, 
and  if  you  could  have  had  those,  Man,  I  think  you 
would  have  said  they  were  right.  David,  there  is 
nothing  to  cry  over!" 

"I'm  not!"  said  the  Harvester,  wiping  the  splashes 
from  her  hand.  "But,  Ruth,  forget  what  I  said  about 
being  brief.  I  didn't  realize  what  was  coming.  I  should 
have  said,  if  you've  any  mercy  at  all,  go  slowly!  This  is 
the  greatest  thing  that  ever  happened  or  ever  will  happen 
to  me.     See  that  you  don't  leave  out  one  word  of  it. " 

"I  told  you  I  had  to  tell  you  first,"  said  the  Girl. 

"I  understand  now,"  said  the  Harvester,  his  head 
against  her  knee  while  he  pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips. 
"I  see!  Your  coming  couldn't  be  perfect  without  know- 
ing this  first.  Go  on,  dear  heart,  and  slowly!  You 
owe  me  every  word." 

"When  I  had  it  all  absorbed,  I  carried  the  paper  to 
the  library  and  said,  'Grandfather,  such  a  wonderful 
thing  has  happened.  A  man  has  had  a  new  idea,  and  he 
has  done  a  unique  work  that  the  whole  world  is  going  to 
recognize.  He  has  stood  before  men  and  made  a  speech 
that  few,  oh  so  few,  could  make  honestly,  and  he  has 
advocated  right  living,  oh  so  nobly,  and  he  has  given 


554  THE  HARVESTER 

a  wonderful  gift  to  science  without  price,  because  through 
it  he  first  saved  the  life  he  loved  best.  Isn't  that  mar- 
vellous, grandfather?'  And  he  said,  'Very  marvellous, 
Ruth.  Won't  you  sit  down  and  read  to  me  about  it?' 
And  I  said,  'I  can't,  dear  grandfather,  because  I  have 
been  away  from  grandmother  all  day,  and  she  is  fretting 
for  me,  and  to-night  is  a  great  ball,  and  she  has  spent 
millions  on  my  dress,  I  think,  and  there  is  an  especial 
reason  why  I  must  go,  and  so  I  have  to  see  her  now;  but 
I  want  to  show  you  the  man's  face,  and  then  you  can 
read  the  story.' 

"You  see,  I  knew  if  I  started  to  read  it  he  would  stop 
me;  but  if  I  left  him  alone  with  it  he  would  be  so  curi- 
ous he  would  finish.  So  I  turned  your  name  under  and 
held  the  paper  and  said,  'What  do  you  think  of  that 
face,  grandfather?  Study  it  carefully,'  and,  Man,  only 
guess  what  he  said!  He  said,  'I  think  it  is  the  face  of 
one  of  nature's  noblemen.'  I  just  kissed  him  time  and 
again  and  then  I  said,  'So  it  is  grandfather,  so  it  is;  for  it 
is  the  face  of  the  man  who  twice  saved  my  life,  and  lifted 
my  mother  from  almost  a  pauper  grave  and  laid  her  to 
rest  in  state,  and  the  man  who  found  you,  and  sent 
me  to  you  when  I  was  determined  not  to  come.'  And  I 
just  stood  and  kissed  that  paper  before  him  and  cried, 
again  and  again,  'He  is  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  and  he 
is  my  husband,  my  dear,  dear  husband  and  to-morrow  I 
am  going  home  to  him.'  Then  I  laid  the  paper  on  his 
lap  and  ran  away.  I  went  to  grandmother  and  did  every- 
thing she  wanted,  then  I  dressed  for  the  ball.     I  went 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    555 

to  say  good-bye  to  her  and  show  my  dress  and  grand- 
father was  there,  and  he  followed  me  out  and  said,  'Ruth, 
you  didn't  mean  it?'  I  said,  'Did  you  read  the  paper, 
grandfather?'  and  he  said  'Yes';  and  I  said,  'Then  I 
should  think  you  would  know  I  mean  it,  and  glory 
in  my  wonderful  luck.  Think  of  a  man  like  that, 
grandfather!' 

"I  went  to  the  ball,  and  I  danced  and  had  a  lovely 
time  with  every  one,  because  I  knew  it  was  going  to  be 
the  very  last,  and  to-morrow  I  must  start  to  you. 

"On  the  way  home  I  told  Mr.  Kennedy  what  paper 
to  get  and  to  read  it.  I  said  good-bye  to  him,  and  I 
really  think  he  cared,  but  I  was  too  happy  to  be  very 
sorry.  When  I  reached  my  room  there  was  a  packet  for 
me  and,  Man,  like  David  of  old,  you  are  a  wonderful 
poet!  Oh  Harvester!  why  didn't  you  send  them  to  me 
instead  of  the  cold,  hard  things  you  wrote?" 
"What  do  you  mean,  Ruth?" 

"Those  letters!  Those  wonderful  outpourings  of  love 
and  passion  and  poetry  and  song  and  broken-heartedness. 
Oh  Man,  how  could  you  write  such  things  and  throw 
them  in  the  fire?  Granny  Moreland  found  them  when 
she  came  to  bring  you  a  pie,  and  she  carried  them  to 
Doctor  Carey,  and  he  sent  them  to  me,  and,  David, 
they  finished  me.  Everything  came  in  a  heap.  I  would 
have  come  without  them,  but  never,  never  with  quite 
the  understanding,  for  as  I  read  them  the  deeps  opened 
up,  and  the  flood  broke,  and  there  did  a  warm  tide  go 
through  all  my  being,  like  you  said  it  would;  and  now, 


556  THE  HARVESTER 

David,  I  know  what  you  mean  by  love.  I  called  the 
maids  and  they  packed  my  trunk  and  grandmother's, 
and  I  had  grandfather's  valet  pack  his,  and  go  and  secure 
berths  and  tickets,  and  learn  about  trains,  and  I  got 
everything  ready,  even  to  the  ambulance  and  doctor; 
but  I  waited  until  morning  to  tell  them.  I  knew  they 
would  not  let  me  come  alone,  so  I  brought  them  along. 
David,  what  in  the  world  are  we  going  to  do  with  them  ?" 

The  Harvester  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  at  the 
flushed  face  of  the  Girl. 

"With  no  time  to  mature  a  plan,  I  would  say  that  we 
are  going  to  love  them,  care  for  them,  gradually  teach 
them  our  work,  and  interest  them  in  our  plans  here; 
and  so  soon  as  they  become  reconciled  we  will  build  them 
such  a  house  as  they  want  oh  the  hill  facing  us,  just  across 
Singing  Water,  and  there  they  may  have  every  luxury 
they  can  provide  for  themselves,  or  we  can  offer,  and  the 
pleasure  of  your  presence,  and  both  of  them  can  grow 
strong  and  happy.  I'll  have  grandmother  on  her  feet  in 
ten  days,  and  the  edge  off  grandfather's  tongue  in  three. 
That  bluster  of  his  is  to  drown  tears,  Ruth;  I  saw  it  to- 
night. And  when  they  pass  over  we  will  carry  them  up 
and  lay  them  beside  her  under  the  oak,  and  we  can  take 
the  house  we  build  for  them,  if  you  like  it  better,  and  use 
this  for  a  store-room. " 

"Never!"  said  the  Girl.  "Never!  My  sunshine 
room  and  gold  garden  so  long  as  I  live.  Never  again 
will  I  leave  them.  If  this  cabin  grows  too  small,  we  will 
build  all  over  the  hillside;  but  my  room  and  garden  and 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    557 

this  and  the  dining-room  and  your  den  there  must  re- 
main as  they  are  now." 

The  Harvester  arose  and  drew  the  davenport  before 
the  fireplace,  and  heaped  pillows.  "You  are  so  tired  you 
are  trembling,  and  your  voice  is  quivering, "  he  said.  He 
lifted  the  Girl,  laid  her  down  and  arranged  the  coverlet. 

"Go  to  sleep!"  he  ordered  gently.  "You  have  made 
me  so  wildly  happy  that  I  could  run  and  shout  like  a 
madman.  Try  to  rest,  and  maybe  the  fairies  who  aid 
me  will  put  my  kiss  back  on  your  lips.  I  am  going  to 
the  hill  top  to  tell  mother  and  my  God." 

He  knelt  and  gathered  her  in  his  arms  a  second,  then 
called  Belshazzar  to  guard,  and  went  into  the  sweet 
spring  night,  to  jubilate  with  that  wild  surge  of  passion 
that  sweeps  the  heart  of  a  strong  man  when  he  is  most 
nearly  primal.  He  climbed  the  hill  at  a  rush,  and  stand- 
ing beneath  the  oak  on  the  summit,  he  faced  the  lake, 
and  stretching  his  arms  widely,  he  waved  them,  merely 
to  satisfy  the  demand  for  action.  When  urgency  for 
expression  came  upon  him,  he  laughed  a  deep  rumble 
of  exultation. 

The  night  wind  swept  the  lake  and  lifted  his  hair, 
the  odour  of  spring  was  intoxicating  in  his  nostrils, 
small  creatures  of  earth  stirred  around  him,  here  and  there 
a  bird,  restless  in  the  delirium  of  mating  fever,  lifted 
its  head  and  piped  a  few  notes  on  the  moon-whitened 
air.  The  frogs  sang  uninterruptedly  at  the  water's 
edge.  The  Harvester  stood  rejoicing.  Beating  on  his 
brain  came  a  rush  of  love  words  uttered  in  the  Girl's 


558  THE  HARVESTER 

dear  voice.  "I  wanted  you!  Just  you!  He  is  my  hus- 
band! My  dear,  dear  husband!  To-morrow  I  am  going 
home!  Now,  David,  I  know  what  you  mean  by  love!" 
The  Harvester  laughed  again  and  sounds  around  him 
ceased  for  a  second,  then  swelled  in  fuller  volume  than 
before.  He  added  his  voice.  "Thank  God!  Oh,  thank 
God!"  he  cried.  "And  may  the  Author  of  the  Universe, 
the  spirits  of  the  little  mothers  who  loved  us,  and  all  the 
good  fairies  wh©  guide  us,  unite  to  bring  unbounded  joy 
to  my  Dream  Girl  and  to  guard  her  safely." 

The  cocks  of  Medicine  Woods  began  their  second 
salute  to  dawn.  At  this  sound  and  with  the  mention  of 
her  name,  the  Harvester  turned  down  the  hill,  and  strid- 
ing forcefully  approached  the  cabin.  As  he  passed  the 
Girl's  room  he  stepped  softly,  smiling  as  he  wondered  if 
its  unexpected  occupants  were  resting.  He  followed 
Singing  Water,  and  stood  looking  at  the  hillside,  studying 
the  exact  location  most  suitable  for  a  home  for  the  old 
people  he  was  so  delighted  to  welcome.  That  they  would 
remain  he  never  doubted.  His  faith  in  the  call  of  the 
wild  had  been  verified  in  the  Girl;  it  would  reach  them 
also.  The  hill  top  would  bind  them.  Their  love  for  the 
Girl  would  compel  them.  They  would  be  company  for 
her  and  a  new  interest  in  life. 

"Couldn't  be  better,  not  possibly!"  commented  the 
delighted  Harvester. 

He  followed  the  path  down  Singing  Water  until  he 
reached  the  bridge  where  it  turned  into  the  marsh. 
There  he  paused,  looking  straight  ahead. 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    559 

"Wonder  if  I  would  frighten  her?"  he  mused.  "I 
believe  I'll  risk  it." 

He  walked  on  rapidly,  vaulted  the  fence  enclosing 
his  land,  crossed  the  road,  and  unlatched  the  gate.  As 
he  did  so,  the  door  opened,  and  Granny  Moreland  stood 
on  the  sill,  waiting  with  keen  eyes. 

"Well  I  don't  need  neither  specs  nor  noonday  sun 
to  see  that  you're  steppin'  like  the  blue  ribbon  colt  at 
the  County  Fair,  and  lookin'  like  you  owned  Kingdom 
Come,"  she  said.     "What's  up,  David?" 

"You  are  right,  dear,"  said  the  Harvester.  "I  have 
entered  my  kingdom.  The  Girl  has  come  and  crowned 
me  with  her  love.  She  had  decided  to  return,  but  the 
letters  you  sent  made  her  happier  about  it.  I  wanted 
you  to  know." 

Granny  leaned  against  the  casing,  and  began  to  sob 
unrestrainedly. 

The  Harvester  supported  her  tenderly. 
"Why  don't  do  that,  dear.     Don't  cry,"  he  begged. 
"The  Girl  is  home  for  always,  Granny,  and  I'm  so  happy 
I  am  out  to-night  trying  to  keep  from  losing  my  mind 
with  joy.     She  will  come  to  you  to-morrow,  I  know." 
Granny  tremulously  dried  her  eyes. 
"What  an  old  sap-head  I  am!"  she  commented.     "I 
stole  your  letters  from  your  fireplace,  pitched  a  wilier 

plate  into  the  lake you  got  to  fish  that  out,  come  day, 

David fooled  you  into  that  trip  to  Doc  Carey  to  get 

him  to  mail  them  to  Ruth,   and   never  turned  a   hair. 
But  after  I  got  home  I  commenced  thinkin'  'twas  a  pretty 


560  THE  HARVESTER  r 

ticklish  job  to  stick  your  nose  into  other  people's  busine^g 
an'  every  hour  it  got  worse,  until  I  ain't  had  a  fair  -* 
decent  sleep  since.  If  you  hadn't  come  soon,  boy,  IV 
'a'  been  sick  a-bed.  Oh,  David!  Are  you  sure  she's  over 
there,  and  loves  you  to  suit  you  now?" 

"Yes  dear,  I  am  absolutely  certain,"  said  the  Har- 
vester. "She  was  so  determined  to  come  that  she 
brought  the  invalid  grandmother  she  couldn't  leave  and 
her  grandfather.  They  arrived  at  midnight.  We  are  all 
going  to  live  together  now." 

"Well  bless  my  stars!  Fetched  you  a  family!  David, 
I  do  hope  to  all  that's  peaceful  I  hain't  put  my  foot  in  it. 
The  moon  is  the  deceivingest  thing  on  earth  I  know, 
but  does  her  family  'pear  to  be  an  a-gre'-able  family, 
by  its  light?" 

The  Harvester's  laugh  boomed  a  half  mile  down  the 
road. 

"Finest  people  on  earth,  next  to  you,  dear.  I'm 
mighty  glad  to  have  them.  I'm  going  to  build  them  a 
house  on  my  best  location,  and  we  are  all  going  to  be 
happy  from  now  on.     Go  to  bed!     This  night  air  may 

chill  you.    I  can't  sleep.     I  wanted  you  to  know  first 

so  I  came  over.     In  mother's  stead,  will  you  kiss  me,  and 
wish  me  happiness,  dear  friend?" 

Granny  Moreland  laid  an  eager,  withered  hand  on 
each  shoulder,  and  bent  to  the  radiant  young  face. 

"God  bless  you,  lad,  and  grant  you  as  great  happiness 
as  life  ort  to  fetch  every  clean,  honest  man,"  she  prayed 
fervently,  with  closed  eyes  and  her  lined  old  face  turned 


'  HE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD    561 

"/>ard.     "And,  O  God,  bless  Ruth,  and  help  her  as 

a-     u  never  helped  mortal  woman  before  to  know  her  own 

tkitkd  without  Variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turnin'.": 

The  Harvester  was  on  Singing  Water  bridge  before  he 

<>ave  way.     There  he  laughed  as  never  before  in  his  life. 

Finally   he   controlled   himself   and    started   toward   the 

cabin;  but  he  was  chuckling  as  he  passed  the  driveway, 

and  walked  down  the  broad  cement  floor  leading  to  his 

bathing   pool,    where   the    moonlight   bridged    the    lake, 

and  fell  as  a  benediction  all  around  him. 

He  stood  a  long  time,  when  he  recognized  the  familiar 
crash  of  a  breaking  backlog  falling  together,  and  heard 
the  customary  leap  of  the  frightened  dog.     He  walked 
to  his  door  and  listened  intently,  but  there  was  no  sound; 
so  he  decided  the  Girl  had  not  been  awakened.     In  the 
midst  of  a  whitening  sheet  of  gold  the  Harvester  dropped 
to  his  stoop  and  leaned  his  head  against  the  broad  casing. 
He  broke  a  twig  from  a  hawthorn  bush  beside  him,  and 
sat  twisting  it  in  his  fingers  as  he  stared  down  the  line 
of  the  gold  bridge.     Never  had  it  seemed  so  material, 
so  like  a  path  that  might  be  trodden  by  mortal  feet  and 
lead  them  straight  to  Heaven.     As  on  the  hill  top,  night 
again  surrounded   him  and  the  Harvester's   soul  drank 
deep   wild   draughts   of   a   new  joy.     Sleep   was   out  of 
the  question.     He  was  too  intensely  alive  to  know  that 
he  ever  again  could  be  weary.     He  sat  there  in  the  moon- 
light, and  with  unbridled  heart  gloried  in  the  joy  that 
had  come  to  him. 

He  turned  his  face  from  the  bridge  as  he  heard  the 


562  THE  HARVESTER 

click  of  Belshazzar's  nails  on  the  floor  of  the  bathng 
pool.  Then  his  heart  and  breath  stopped  an  instant 
Beside  the  dog  walked  the  Girl,  one  hand  on  his  head 
the  other  holding  the  flowing  white  robe  around  her  and 
grasping  one  of  the  Harvester's  lilies.  His  first  thought 
was  sheer  amazement  that  she  was  not  afraid,  for  it  was 
evident  now  that  the  backlog  had  awakened  her,  and 
she  had  taken  the  dog  and  gone  to  her  mother.  Then 
she  had  followed  the  path  leading  down  the  hill,  around 
the  cabin,  and  into  the  sheet  of  moonlight  gilding  the 
shore.  She  stood  there  gazing  over  the  lake,  oblivious 
to  all  things  save  the  entrancing  allurement  of  a  perfect 
spring  night  beside  undulant  water.  Screened  from  her 
with  bushes  and  trees  the  Harvester  scarcely  breathed 
lest  he  startle  her.  Then  his  head  swam,  and  his  still 
heart  leaped  wildly.  She  was  coming  toward  him.  On 
her  left  lay  the  path  to  the  hill  top.  A  few  steps  farther 
she  could  turn  to  the  right  and  follow  the  driveway  to 
the  front  of  the  cabin.  He  leaned  forward  watching  in 
an  agony  of  suspense.  Her  beautiful  face  was  trans- 
figured with  joy,  aflame  with  love,  radiant  with  smiles, 
and  her  tall  figure  fleecy  white,  rimmed  in  gold.  Up 
the  shining  path  of  light  she  steadily  advanced  toward 
his  door.  Then  the  Harvester  understood,  and  from 
his  exultant  heart  burst  the  wordless  petition: 
"Lord  God  Almighty,  help  me  to  be  a  man!" 
With  outstretched  arms  he  arose  to  meet  her. 
"My  Dream  Girl!"  he  cried  hoarsely.  "My  Dream 
Girl!" 


THE  COMING  OF  THE  BLUEBIRD     563 

"Coming,  Harvester!"  she  answered  in  tones  of  joy, 
at  she  dropped  the  white  flower  and  lifted  her  hands  to 
draw  his  face  toward  her. 

"Is  that  the  kiss  you  wanted?"  she  questioned. 

"Yes,  Ruth,"  breathed  the  Harvester. 

"Then  I  am  ready  to  be  your  wife,"  she  said.  "May 
I  share  all  the  remainder  of  life's  joys  and  sorrows  with 
you?" 

The  Harvester  gathered  her  in  his  arms  and  carried 
her  to  the  bench  on  the  lake  shore.  He  wrapped  the  white 
robe  around  her  and  clasped  her  tenderly  as  behooved  a 
lover,  yet  with  arms  that  she  knew  could  have  crushed 
her  had  they  willed.  The  minutes  slipped  away,  and  still 
he  held  her  to  his  heart,  the  reality  far  surpassing  his 
dream;  for  he  knew  that  he  was  awake,  and  he  realized 
this  as  the  supreme  hour  that  comes  to  the  strongman 
who  knows  his  love  requited. 

When  the  first  banner  of  red  light  arose  above  Medi- 
cine Woods  and  Singing  Water  the  cocks  on  the  hill- 
side announced  the  dawn.  As  the  gold  faded  to  gray, 
a  burst  of  bubbling  notes  swelled  from  a  branch  almost 
over  their  heads  where  stood  a  bark-enclosed  little  house. 

"Ruth,  do  you  hear  that?"  asked  the  Harvester  softly. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "and  I  see  it.  A  wonderful 
bird,  with  Heaven's  deepest  blue  on  its  back  and  a  breast 
like  a  russet  autumn  leaf,  came  straight  up  the  lake  from 
the  south,  and  before  it  touched  the  limb  that  song 
seemed  to  gush  from  its  throat." 

"And  for  that  reason,  the  greatest  nature  lover  who 


564  THE  HARVESTER 

ever  lived  says  that  it  'deserves  preeminence.'  It  alwa/s 
settles  from  its  long  voyage  through  the  air  in  an  ecstasy 
of  melody.     Do  you  know  what  it  is,  Ruth?" 

The  Girl  laid  a  hand  on  his  cheek  and  turned  his  eyes 
from  the  bird  to  her  face  as  she  answered,  "Yes,  Har- 
vester-man, I  know.     It  is  your  first  bluebird but  it 

is  far  too  late,  and  Belshazzar  has  lost  his  high  office. 
I  have  usurped  both  their  positions.  You  remain  in  the 
woods  and  reap  their  harvest,  you  enter  the  laboratory 
and  make  wonderful,  life-giving  medicines,  you  face  the 
world  and  tell  men  of  the  high  and  holy  life  they  may 

live  if  they  will,  and  then always  and  forever,  you 

come  back  to  Medicine  Woods  and  to  me,  Harvester. " 


THE   END 


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